


White and Red

by Ships_ahoy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Albino Karkat, Bullying, Humanstuck, Later sexual content, M/M, but at least they frick, implied self harm, this fic will probably make you feel sad i'm sorry, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-28
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-11-08 17:53:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 43,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/445868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ships_ahoy/pseuds/Ships_ahoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the headcanon that humanstuck Karkat would be albino and featuring Dave as the school bully determined to make Karkat's life a living hell out of his own self hatred. </p><p>But can he really control the feelings threatening to overthrow his hatred and send him falling head over heels for the angry teen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> PSA: I've been getting a lot of stick for this fic ever since it unintentionally became popular, and it has recently reached the point where a few individuals actually sent me anonymous messages of a threatening nature because of it. Therefore, this is a warning that this fic will contain issues of self harm, bullying, physical abuse and scenarios of a dubcon nature. If you feel like any of these issues will trigger/offend/upset you in any way then I urge you not to read this fic. I definitely do not suggest you read the fic and then feel the need to send me anon messages telling me to hurt myself. That is way not cool, folks. Over and out.

The smoke pushes past your lips slowly and your eyes follow it upwards until the thin grey cloud has entirely dispersed. You take another drag, tasting fire on your tongue before you breathe down its comforting heat into your lungs, holding it there as you hear your name being called out.

“Strider!”

You release, turning your head slowly in the direction of the voice as you savour the light headed rush take effect from your cigarette.

“Yeah?”

It’s one of your ‘friends’ from your English class, his name slipping your memory because to you they all looked the same. All of your ‘friends’ were labelled so loosely, each of them members of the football team with more brute than brains and more popularity than personality. But then again, your friendship with each of them was nothing short of a business exchange. They kept you company and followed your orders whilst you promised them entry to all the best clubs in the area, courtesy of one DJ brother.

He’s grinning at you, lumbering in your direction with all the cocky confidence only a douchebag like him could possess and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes behind your shades.

“Got a spare cig?” He asks, leaning against the wall beside you and you push your shades up your nose out of habit.

“Maybe.” You take another drag, tipping your head back against the wall to breathe the smoke out towards the sky.

“Aw come on, man. Don’t be such a fag and give me one.” He says and you flinch just slightly at the word, careful to keep your face expressionless as your heart picks up a pace in response. You would have thought that you were used to it by now. They used those kinds of insults all the time and you often wondered what would happen if they knew the truth. The conclusions were never pleasant.

You reluctantly pull the packet from your jeans pocket, offering him one before you let your eyes roam out over the scene before you. It was just a typical high school. Clusters of noisy kids making their way up the path from the road to the entrance of the school. It was enough to bore the living crap out of you and you took a long drag in response, slender fingers flicking away the ash that had built up at the end of your cigarette.

“Ha. Check out Vantas.” The guy next to you retorts as he lights up his own cigarette, nodding in the direction of the path.

Your attention snaps across, eyes tracking the short teen as he made his way quickly towards the school doors, his shoulders hunched and his hands shoved deep into his hoody pockets. His hood was up, hiding his face from view as he approached closer.

“How’s the demon doing, Kar?!” The footballer shouts across the courtyard and it’s obvious that he hears because his walking slows just slightly, head turning to send a glare in your direction. He pulls a hand from his pocket, lifting a middle finger in response, lips pushed into a thin frown.

The guy next to you bursts into a fit of laughter, head dropping forward and his bulky shoulders shaking heavily. And you know you should join in. But you can’t.

Because the small teen is still looking your way and it seems as though his eyes are locked right on yours, making your stomach twist unpleasantly as you furrow your brow back at him. It was sickening to look at him, physically painful to see him stare at you with those eyes that were the exact same shade as your own.

“Fucking freak…” You hear beside you in between laughs and, at last, you find yourself able to agree, nodding your head slowly as your lips pull down in distaste. You extinguish the rest of your cigarette roughly against the wall, watching him disappear among the crowds into the school.

“Yeah, fucking _freak._ ”

_**…** ___

The first time you had seen Karkat Vantas was a memory that still seemed so fresh to you that you thought you would never forget it. 

The hair was the first thing you had noticed, shockingly white and messily untamed on his head, as though he was constantly running his fingers through it and leaving it flicking out in all directions. It fell askew across his forehead, giving way to two bright ruby eyes which seemed to be fixed in a permanent glare, ringed with skin that seemed slightly bruised compared to the rest of his ivory complexion. As though the kid never slept at all. 

Wide eyes, nervous, teeth chewing at the pale pink lower lip; everything about him was hideously _beautiful._

It had been a complete shock to the system to see him stood at the front of the classroom, introduced as a new student with a strange name and an even stranger appearance. In fact, the whole class had been stunned into silence by the albino kid frowning back at them, their eyes following him as he took his seat and sunk down self consciously. 

For them, he was novel and strange, the unfamiliarity of him so tempting they practically fed off the sight of him. And it pained you to know that you were isolated in that way. Because the reason he had caught your attention wasn’t his strangeness, but his scary _familiarity._

Red eyes you were so used to seeing every morning in the mirror, white hair you had always shrugged off as being blonde to anyone who asked. He was everything you kept hidden from the world and everything you hated all in one. It sent your blood boiling just to look at him, grip tightening against the edge of your desk and your mouth pulled into an uncharacteristic frown. 

All it took was a few minutes for you to come to the conclusion that everything in your body and soul _hated_ Karkat Vantas. 

And it wasn’t long until you found a way to release that hate. Because, like anything strange or different, after the novelty wore off, only cruelness was left behind. And so the taunting started within days of him moving to the school. 

It was mostly the people you knew who started it, which was to be expected considering the type of guys that they were. It had happened with plenty of other poor kids foolish enough to try and stand out from the crowd. Except you never usually got involved. You just let them do what they wanted like a pack of animals, judging them just as much as they judged the kids they bullied. 

It was different with Karkat though. In fact, you could say you were the leader of the pack when it came to shouting names at him in the corridor, making up rumours in the classroom, and occasionally you even turned it physical. Hitting, tripping, throwing things. It was all so easy to get at him. 

And he always reacted so strongly as well, never giving in to you without a fight or a curse in your direction; eyes alight with anger and hurt which brought you the greatest rush. The ultimate feeling of control and power over something you had previously felt so helpless about. Every time you drew blood from his pale skin or hit a nerve with a cruel nickname in the corridor, it was a release of everything you felt against yourself. 

Hurting him was your ultimate form of self harm. 

But with every form of self harm, the rush is always followed by the come down. And over time you found it happening more and more often where you would lie awake at night, his face invading your thoughts with such an intensity that all you could do was break down and cry. Painful, desperate sobs you drowned in your pillow out of fear of your Bro hearing. 

And the thoughts never went away, but only grew in intensity with each passing week until he was all you could think about. It was as though he possessed you in the same way you joked demons possessed him. 

There was one particular memory you thought about the most, like a disease infecting your mind to which you had no cure. 

__**…** ___ _

_Your fingers grip the edge of the sink hard, forcing your eyes upwards to look at yourself in the dirty mirror hung up in the men’s toilets. The sight of yourself disgusts you, the only relief gained from the fact that your eyes were hidden by your shades._

_You breathe in sharply, face breaking its expressionless mask to send yourself a hateful scowl. Because you had fucked up again. Bro had been gone for several days and you were sure that it was because you had let him down again in some way. Maybe this time he wouldn’t come back. Which was all you deserved anyway for being so pathetically useless._

_You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, trying to get a grip on yourself in case someone walked in and saw you this way. Except it was difficult, and you were too far gone in your own self hatred that it was all you could do not to scream the whole school down._

_You curl up a hand into a fist, your eyes opening to hit your reflection and this time it’s enough for you to pull your fist back and send it crashing into the mirror. You feel the glass shatter and break beneath your fingers, cutting you and distorting your image with jagged lines. Blood drips down your fingers and you bring your hand upwards to observe it blankly. Red against white._

_Suddenly, one of the cubicle doors behind you is thrown open loudly, making you jump and swing round to face a wide eyed Karkat. His face is red, eyes slightly puffy so that you know he’d been crying, but he’s sure as hell trying his hardest not to show it, mouth scowling at you fiercely as his gaze flickers from the broken mirror to your bleeding hand wordlessly._

_For once, you haven’t got it in you to say anything to him, and he doesn’t seem to want to say anything either. The two of you stand in stunned silence for a few seconds before he makes a move towards you. He grabs at your wrist, yanking you over towards the sink that wasn’t full of mirror shards before turning on the tap and shoving your cut fingers into the water._

_“What kind of stupid fucker punches a mirror?” He mumbles, mostly to himself as you let him clean away your blood wordlessly. Your eyes are fixed on him, taking the opportunity to soak in his details whilst there was no one around to judge you._

_He had the most amazing eyes, so much more appealing to look at than your own, framed with long thick blonde lashes that matched the mop of hair curling gently against his neck. His lips were fixed in his permanent frown, stained darker in certain patches from where he had bitten away the skin obsessively. It was at that point that you forced yourself to look away, realizing exactly how long you had been looking at his lips._

_He’s cleaned away most of the blood, releasing your wrist and then stepping back away from you with a wary glare. You haven’t said a word yet, your skin tingling from where he had hold of it only moments before._

_“Why?” You finally say, careful to keep any emotion from showing in your voice._

_“Maybe because not everyone is as much of an asshole as you, Strider.” He says in his gravelly voice, sending you a final frown before he quickly turns and stalks off out of the toilets, mumbling incoherent words to himself as the door slams behind him and leaves you in silence._

_For a moment you just stand and stare at the place where he had stood, your hand reaching out to lightly touch at your wrist where he had held you. Then you slowly start to move back, pieces of mirror cracking beneath your sneakers before your back hits the wall, the solidity of it comforting._

_Eyes slipping closed, and suddenly all you can see is him. The curve of his jawline, the contrast of the dark bags beneath his eyes against the pale white of his skin, the small crease that appeared between his eyebrows when he got really angry._

_Why couldn’t you stop thinking about him?_

_The way his fingernails were bitten right down, the shade of red his cheeks turned when it was too cold or hot, the lips, his lips, his lips. Oh god._

_You let yourself sink slowly to the floor, head falling forward to rest on your curled up knees as though in defeat. You want to cry but you won’t let yourself give in to that kind of weakness._

Because it had suddenly all become horrendously clear. 

Everything in your body and soul _hated_ Karkat Vantas, but that didn’t prevent you from falling hopelessly and helplessly in love with him. 


	2. Chapter 2

The music from your headphones fills your ears, drowning out the sounds of the busy corridor in heavy beats as you make your way to your locker. Hands shoved in your jeans pockets and a slight slouch in your step gives away your reluctance to be there, but you just know Bro would kill you if you bunked another day off school. So you persist onwards through the crowds, attention only focussing as you see a flash of black and blue up ahead.

John Egbert stood by the far end of the corridor, hands fiddling with the straps of his backpack as he tipped his head back in a laugh, revealing a row of dorky looking teeth you had always found slightly endearing. You start to smile but almost instantly you find it wiped from your face, heart dropping into your stomach as you see John is talking to _him._

It was easy to forget that John and Karkat were friends, and it was even easier for you to get possessive over John because of it. It was something you couldn’t help; John being your friend since middle school, and one of the only few real friends you had. There was always that niggling feeling in your chest that Karkat was stealing him from you. Taking away everything that mattered to you. And it made you furious.

You step up to your locker, turning the dial and starting to pull out your books from your backpack as you see John approach out the corner of your eye, thankfully alone.

“Hey!” He’s all dorky smiles and bright blue eyes, leaning against the locker besides yours as you pull your headphones from your ears, letting them hang around your neck instead.

“What’s up, Egbert?”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you all day you dumbass, where’ve you been?” He raises his eyebrows, reaching out to give your shoulder a playful punch. You smirk in his direction, placing your books in your locker.

“Just out and about, man. Nowhere special… What did you need with me?”

“I’m having a party!” He announces, face lighting up with excitement that you can’t help but find infectious. But then again, John had always been able to cheer you up. It had been partly the reason why you had developed a crush on him when you were 14. But that was a fact you were never going to admit to him and seemed long out of date when you reflected on your current situation.

“A party? Sounds sweet.”

“Yeah my dad is out of town tomorrow so I have the house to myself. It’s going to be so cool, and Vriska even told me…” He pauses, eyes glancing around nervously before he leans close, whispering loud enough for anyone to hear anyway, “She told me she can get a whole load of _drink!”_

You make sure to look impressed, a small laugh shaking your shoulders at the same time. There was no doubt in your head that his girlfriend, Vriska, was playing a large role in this party organizing, the controlling bitch. But you weren’t in the position to complain.

“It sounds awesome man.”

“Yeah, and I needed to talk to you because, well… I was wondering if you would DJ for me?” He flashes you a pleading look, chewing at his bottom lip nervously, “I mean, I know how good you are at it and I honestly don’t know who else I would ask…”

“Sure.” You are quick to say, shrugging your shoulders as you push your locker closed, “Don’t worry about it bro.”

“Oh god, thank you!” He visibly relaxes, grinning at you, “It’s gonna be insane, loads of people seem to have heard about it, I only hope it doesn’t get too crazy that my dad finds out…”

“I’m sure it won’t…” You trail off, a sudden thought occurring to you that has your stomach flipping uncomfortably. You’re sure to keep it from showing though as you ask, “Did you even invite Karkat and his freak friends?”

“Aw come on Dave, they aren’t freaks.” John frowns and you give a small snort of laughter, walking away along the corridor so that John has to hurry in order to fall into step beside you.

“John, he’s friends with a fucking stoner clown enthusiast and a computer nerd. And don’t even get me started on _him._ ”

“You don’t have to be such an ass to him, Dave. He’s actually pretty cool when you get to know him.” John shrugs his shoulders and you roll your eyes at him despite knowing he can’t see. He continues, “Well, maybe his taste in movies is a little questionable but-“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, are you seriously hearing yourself here? You. _John Egbert_. Judging someone else on their taste on movies?”

“Shut the fuck up,” His brow furrows in defence, “Ok, so maybe my movies aren’t exactly the best but at least I’m not into all the soppy ass rom-com shit like he is. I swear it’s all he watches.”

“Rom-coms?” You ask, tilting your head in John’s direction to give him a look of astonished bemusement.

“Well… Yeah.”

“Didn’t exactly take him for the type of guy to be into that shit.” You say and a low laugh pushes past your lips.

“Whatever man, just try not to be a dick at the party, ok? I’ll see you tomorrow.” He gives you a small pat on the shoulder before turning and hurrying off into the crowds.

You watch him leave, your sudden isolation leaving you vulnerable to your own thoughts, discarding the light hearted feeling you had been experiencing just moments before. Because you can’t help the feeling of dread that was starting to form in your chest, weighing down on you as you made your way to class, desperate for some distraction.

But it was so difficult not to lose yourself in your own thoughts, all of them eventually leading back to him.

You wondered why he liked rom-coms, what his favourite one was and why. You wondered what music he liked, whether he liked comics or what he watched on TV. There was this _need_ for you to know as much as possible about him, just so that you could pick out the similarities and differences between the two of you.

And then you felt guilty for wanting to know those things, vowing to yourself that you would never make any attempt to ever find them out. You wouldn’t let yourself.

And you would avoid him at the party, not even look his way. Play some songs and leave. It was easy.

Except it wasn’t. And as your class finished and lunch began, you were feeling worse than ever about everything. You didn’t want to go to the party. You didn’t want to see him, know about him, _think_ about him. You didn’t want to feel as scared and fragile as you did when you thought about all he meant to you.

You push your way through the crowds of kids, walking straight past the cafeteria and heading outside. The cold air has the hair on the back of your neck standing on end as you zip up your jacket and make your way around the back of the school where you know no one will be. You didn’t want to be alone, but at the same time, the thought of other people was exhausting.

Pulling out a cigarette, you instantly light up, eyes slipping closed as you are grateful for its familiar taste. You hold out a hand behind you, moving back until your fingers brush against the coarse brick of the school wall before you sink to the floor. One leg curled up against your chest, you tip your head back against the wall, each exhale an attempt to clear the crowded mess your head had become.

One eye cracking open, you study the bright orange of the cigarette end, watching it burn down the tobacco silently whilst your head raced. Thoughts of him, thoughts of yourself, thoughts of the two of you together. You’re disgusted at yourself for thinking them, your teeth biting at your lower lip hard enough for it to hurt. You _wanted_ to hurt.

Fingers stiff with cold, you move your cigarette over towards your other arm, pulling up the red sleeve to reveal the white skin. It was flawed and scarred from fights with your brother, but you know that some of the scars were of your own doing also. Because sometimes that was all that would work to stop your own thoughts from driving you crazy.

Even now, your fingers moved the burning end closer to the skin so that you could feel its heat by your wrist. You’re shaking, eyes fixed on the orange glow and your face blank and pale as though you were on autopilot. Hardly even aware.

“Where the _fuck_ is he?”

The voice makes you jump, quickly pulling away the cigarette to extinguish it on the floor as you let out a shaky breath. You only have enough time to pull down your sleeve before a figure walks around the corner, your heart stopping as you see who it is.

“What are you doing around here? Fuck off.” You shout across at Karkat and it’s his turn to jump, head whipping round in your direction before he sends you a frown, arms crossing against his chest from the chill.

“I’m looking for Gamzee… he sometimes smokes back here, you nosy bastard.” He looks you up and down with a displeased, and slightly worried, air as he takes a step backwards away from you.

“I might be a nosy bastard but at least I don’t cry over soppy ass romance movies.” You snap at him, suddenly realizing that you had found another source for your release; another way to get a rush.

He pauses, eyes narrowing at you as his mouth falls open in slight disbelief, “What did you just say?”

“Are you deaf? I said, at least I’m not some massive baby girl who sits at home sobbing over rom-coms like you do,” You let out a spiteful laugh as you see his cheeks flush red, “What a complete freak.”

“You say that one more time Strider and I swear-“

“What? What are you going to do? Cry all over me? Well, shit… Karkat, please no! Don’t drown me in your tears!”

His arms uncurl from his chest, fingers clasped tightly into fists as he glares daggers in your direction but all you can do is laugh, shoulders shaking against the wall behind you. He’s making no move to come towards you, but he’s not backing away either, his whole body tense.

“I assure you that there is nothing _wrong_ with liking a few romantic movies you utter dickweed. And I definitely do _not_ cry!” He growls at you but his cheeks are as red as his eyes now, and it’s almost as though he was a little kid throwing a tantrum. You would have found it adorable, except you don’t let yourself think things like that. Instead, you push yourself upwards, standing away from the wall and facing his way.

“Oh really? Because I think you bawl like a _baby_. Tell me, does it burn? What with that demon turning your tears into acid and all…”

“That’s it, you fucker.” He’s reached his breaking point, charging towards you with every intention to knock the smirk from your lips. And for once, you actually let him, not making any attempt to dodge as he crashes into you. His arms wrap around you as his legs kick out, obscene words flying from his mouth as you grip him back just as tightly, tipping you both to the side with a small twist.

This wasn’t like the fights you had with Bro. Those ones involved technique and skill and detailed plans all designed to allow you to win. This fight was merely a scuffle between two 17 year old boys behind the back of the school, all fists and knees and curse words. You wrestle him to the floor, delivering a punch in his side as he kicks out at your legs.

You can only imagine the bruises you will be left with in the morning and a small flash of excitement runs through you. You can’t help but think they will be something to remember him by.

He grabs at your hair, yanking it down and then tipping his body to the side so that you roll underneath him, pinned down by the weight of his body on top of your own. Hands coming up to punch at his face, you feel your knuckles hit his cheek hard, his eyes scrunching tightly shut against the impact. Except the punch had brought your fingers brushing past his lips ever so slightly, their touch making you pause in your fighting, suddenly painfully aware of your position.

Because your body was pushed right up against his. Enough for you to feel his warmth through your clothes, feel his breathing as he quickly inhaled and exhaled against your own chest. Even his face was excruciatingly close to yours as he scowled down at you, one hand resting on his cheek where you had punched him and the other still tightly grasping your hair.

All it takes is a second and your mind is running away with itself. You imagine what it would be like to let your hand drift down his side, push beneath the dark material of his hoody and press lightly against his skin as you slide it over his back. You pictured yourself wrapping your legs around his hips, pulling him downwards against you. He would gasp at that and you would catch it with your lips in a passionate kiss.

_Oh fuck._

It races through your mind in barely a moment, but a moment of distraction is all Karkat needs in order to reach down and angrily grab at your shades, pulling them from your face before you even realize what he is doing.

Wide red eyes hit almost a mirror image of themselves and you are too horrified to even attempt to close them. And it is too late anyway, because he’s seen them already, his face falling in a picture of confusion and shock, mouth dropping open but no words coming out.

Your heart is pounding, breathing heavy as you finally gather your wits enough to send him a glare, cheeks flaring up in embarrassment. Your hands grab his shoulders, tipping him away from you as you scramble to your feet frantically. You take a few steps before realizing that he still had hold of your shades and you turn back to face him.

He’s sat up on the floor, white hair messy from the fight, staring up at you with the same shocked look on his face as he glances from the shades in his hand to your eyes repeatedly.

“You’re just like me.” He finally says, the words barely a whisper as you resist the urge to scream and cry and punch him all over again. You were going to explode, collapse, fall apart in every possible way if you didn’t get away _right now._

You take a final step towards him, reaching down to snatch back your shades and put them back on, sending him the worst scowl you could conjure before you turn to walk away from him. But he’s not going to let you leave without making himself clear.

“You’re just like me, Dave Strider! _You’re just like me!_ ” He practically screams after you, the words ringing in your head so loud it’s almost painful. You break into a run, cold air stinging your face as you speed away from Karkat, away from the school, not stopping until you have made it back to your flat. Your heart is pounding, your throat raw as you take in pants of breath.

But you hadn’t run fast enough to escape what had happened. And as you feel the hot sting of tears threaten to fall, you collapse onto your bed, screaming into your pillow until you could scream no more.


	3. Chapter 3

You refuse to go into school the next day, instead taking a detour towards the park on the edge of town. Sitting on a bench in the furthest corner of the park, you chain smoke your way through a whole pack of cigarettes. But it doesn’t make you feel any calmer because your hands still shake with every drag and your face is pale from the kind of sickness only nerves can cause.

Because he _knew._

He knew you were a freak; a useless, worthless, piece of shit freak that hid everything behind a pair of crappy shades. The one person in the whole world besides Bro who knew and it had to be the one who would do everything in his power to use it against you.

You can just imagine him now, telling all his friends, spreading it through the corridors and classrooms. Dave Strider was an albino freak of nature. Dave Strider was a hypocrite. Dave Strider deserved to be hated by everyone he knew.

You drop your head in your hands, fingers pushing through your blonde hair as you try not to be sick right there and then. You swallow down the lump that had formed in your throat, knowing that you had cried enough all of last night for any more tears to be left to spill.

The only relief you have is that it was a Friday, with a whole weekend before you had to face school again. Face everyone else again. But then again, the party was tonight. The party you had promised John you would DJ at. The party where half of your school year were attending.

Your fingers tighten their grip on your hair so that it pulls painfully, eyes squeezing shut tightly so that you see blurs of flashing colour dance across your vision. You wanted to block it all out, run away, die. But then again, you were stronger than all that.

Releasing your hair, you take a deep breath, raising your head again as you slump backwards against the bench, watching the clouds move slowly across the sky. You had been raised to not let any kind of weakness show and you weren’t going to let 17 years of strong willed persistence go to waste. You would go to the party, find out the damage done and try to fix it as best as you could.

You had to at least _try._

Standing up, you head out of the park and back to your empty flat, mindlessly packing up all the equipment you would need for that night. It isn’t long before you find yourself in Bro’s bedroom, rummaging around in the cupboard where you know he keeps his alcohol, pulling out a bottle of vodka to take back to your own room. The bottle is cool and heavy in your palm and the thought crosses your mind that maybe Bro would find out. But by that point you were beyond caring.

Tasting its bitter sting on your tongue, you stop yourself from gagging as you drink it straight, tipping the bottle back as you collapse onto your bed to stare at the ceiling. It was times like this when you would usually think of him. And more often than not, your mind had taken you places that delved deeper than sweet and innocent and had left you feeling a little hot and bothered.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to feel that way right then, each thought of him also coming with a mixed feeling of dread, regret and hurt that all pooled together in an ultimate form of self hatred. You take another swig, eyes squeezing shut against the harsh taste scorching the back of your throat, warming your insides unpleasantly.

By the time you have to leave for the party, you had drunk your way through half the bottle of vodka. You are sober enough to DJ, but drunk enough that everything around you is delivered with a welcome haze, a pleasant numbness covering your thoughts.

John welcomes you happily at the door and you can’t tell whether he is genuinely glad to see you or whether he knows your secret and is desperately trying to hide it. Regardless, he lets you set up your equipment in his living room silently, starting off the music with drunkenly clumsy fingers as people start to arrive.

The lights are dimmed, the rooms start to crowd with people, and soon enough the noise of people talking is loud enough for you to crank the music volume up high. High enough to get the crowds cheering and moving along to the beat, but more importantly, loud enough to drown out your thoughts.

Because you don’t understand why no one has said anything to you yet. There were no jeers or taunts or dirty looks sent in your direction. People still smiled at you in greeting and the people you knew still called out with friendly tones over the sound of the music. There was even a small group of girls that had stationed themselves near your turntables in order to send you flirty glances and suggestive smiles whenever you looked their way. It was all just as normal. It was all as though Karkat hadn’t said a word.

You start to anticipate his arrival, nerves shaking your fingers as you change tracks, and an almost stomach twisting sensation racking your body with every new person that entered the room. In order to try and calm yourself down, you accept the drink John shoves in your direction with a wink. The red plastic cup is filled with some hideous blue concoction that tastes like a sugar overdose mixed with the sharp tang of alcohol but you drink it quickly regardless.

You wanted to be really drunk.

And sure enough, by the time he does arrive, sobriety seems embarrassingly distant to you. Your vision blurs, swaying slightly behind your turntables as you finally realize you should put on your backup playlist and just let it play out. Because you were getting far too drunk to control what song came on next.

You swallow nervously at the sight of him across the room, stood with a cup in hand beside his towering stoner friend who was lazily smiling into the distance. He was talking, brow pulled down angrily as he glanced around the room, eyes finally settling on you in a way that had you frozen where you stood, unable to do anything but blankly stare right back.

You were suddenly aware of a loud beating, unsure if it was the music or just your own heart threatening to burst out of your chest right there and then. Because your eyes are still locked on his, neither of you are willing to look away. The angry look he had started with has given way to a more curious one, mouth parting slightly so that he can chew at his bottom lip in a way that has you breathing in sharply. You were too drunk for this.

He turns on his heel, quickly pushing his way out of the room and somehow you find yourself chasing after him, letting your playlist do the work as you stumble through the crowds of people. You emerge out of the living room, eyes catching a flash of white hair moving up the stairs away from you.

“Hey!” You shout out but he doesn’t stop and you curse under your breath, following him quickly. You somehow manage to close the distance between the two of you at the top of the stairs and you grasp his arm tightly, yanking him into the nearest bedroom away from the people and party.

“Let me fucking go, you fuckwit!” He retorts, wriggling furiously in your grasp but you ignore his angry words, shutting the door so that the two of you are plunged into darkness, the only source of light coming from a streetlight outside the window. It set an eerie orange glow on the dark room as you clumsily shove him against the wall, placing a palm by his head to stop him from escaping.

“Who did you tell?” You are attempting a stern approach but the drink has made you sound sloppy and slurred, not quite as dominant as you’d hoped for.

“Tell what?” He glares back at you, eyes reflecting back flickers of the orange light as he pushes back away from you, against the wall.

“You know what I’m talking about, you little fucker.” You snap back, and it’s pleasantly sharper this time, your hand banging against the wall by his head, making him jump slightly.

“What? The fact that you are just as much as a _freak_ as I am?!” His voice grows louder, raspy and seeped with enough poison to make you flinch, “Because you can keep your fucking hair on, I didn’t tell anybody about that little bitch of a secret you have.”

You pause for a second, slurred thoughts taking a while to figure out what he had just said as you watch him cross his arms across his chest in defence.

“You… didn’t tell anyone?” You finally manage to say, words quiet and full of all the confusion you were too drunk to hide.

“No. I fucking didn’t. But god damn it, I really wanted to. I wanted to spread that shit all around that fucking hell hole of a school after the way you treated me all this time. You’re a fucking _hypocrite_ Dave Strider.” He practically spits at you, bringing a finger up to prod at your chest hard, leaning forward away from the wall.

“Then why didn’t you?! Why the fuck didn’t you? Surely it’s all a hypocrite deserves, right? To be mocked and ridiculed like _you_ were?” You suddenly snarl back, feeling your face burn with your frustration, pushing closer to him. You are right up in each other’s faces, feeding off each other’s anger. And you know that you are close enough for him to see your eyes behind your shades, even in the dark, because he’s set his glare locked dead on with your own.

“Why? Maybe because I knew how much it fucking hurt to be in that position, you insufferable douchebag. What _I_ want to know is why you hate me so much if we are so alike?” He reaches forward to grab the front of your shirt roughly, eyes burning into yours, so close your noses are almost touching, “ _Why?_ ”

You feel your stomach drop, your anger faltering slightly as a flash of a different emotion is revealed on your face before it’s quickly hidden again.

Why?

_Because I hate myself._

_Because I love you._

You can hear the sound of the music downstairs, the beat loud enough to shake the floor slightly beneath your feet. It’s muffled, but there is still the faint sound of a high pitched tune overlaying it, and if you strained you could probably even hear the lyrics of the song. But despite how loud the music downstairs was, it didn’t drown out the sound of your breathing, his breathing, the fact that you were so close to him that you could actually _feel_ him exhale against your skin.

And you can’t help it, can’t hold it back any longer. Unable to form the right words, and fuelled by the liquid confidence of the alcohol; you decided to show him exactly why you hated him so much.

Pushing forward to close the small distance between you, you meet his lips roughly, clumsy from the drunken lack of co-ordination. You squeeze your eyes tightly shut, hand pushing against the wall almost as hard as you push against his lips. You suck on his lower lip, tasting him, needing him, desperate for some response out of him.

And after a beat he does respond. But not in the way you had hoped. Hands grabbing your shoulders, you are quickly shoved backwards, stumbling slightly from lack of balance.

His face is furious, the angriest you had ever seen him in fact. And it’s mingled in with hurt and embarrassment and so many other emotions that you can read like a book just from his flushed cheeks and wide eyes. He has his fists curled up at his sides and his breathing is heavy and you wonder whether he is going to take a swing at you for being so bold. Hell, by this point you think you deserve a good hit to the face.

But instead he turns quickly, flinging open the door so that it hits against the wall with a loud thud, the light from the hallway flooding the room and making you squint slightly in confusion.

“Karkat.”

The name slips past your lips quietly and then realization hits you like a brick wall, jolting your whole body into action. Scrambling after him, you frantically push annoyed party goers out of your way, desperate and determined as you take the stairs two at a time.

He’s already made it outside by the time you reach the bottom, the front door still open as you see him rushing into the dark night, pulling up his hood against the downpour of rain that had begun.

The rain soaks you instantly, hair flattening against your forehead and your shirt clinging to you as you chase after him, heart pounding in time with each footstep.

“Karkat!” You call after him, louder this time and you see him hesitate slightly, slowing before finally coming to a reluctant stop by the edge of the road, turning your way. He points an angry finger at you, taking a further step back along the path as you catch up to him.

“No, you stay back! Just fuck off. Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off! _I hate you!_ ” He practically screams at you and you are suddenly glad that everyone else had gone inside when it had started raining. You didn’t want them seeing and wondering things. You couldn’t let them find out what you had done.

“I’m-“

“SHUT UP!” He cuts you off and you snap your mouth closed again into a grim line, desperately trying to keep the hurt from showing on your face. You couldn’t crumble now. Not yet.

He takes a few deep breaths, face half hidden in the shadow of his hood so that all you can see is the way his lips are pulled down into a fierce frown. A few minutes pass by, in which all that could be heard was the distant sound of the party and the sound of the rain hitting the sidewalk heavily, before he finally speaks again, voice strained. As though he was trying hard not to cry.

“You don’t even understand do you? You’re such a dumbass that you don’t even get it up here!” He taps the side of his head forcefully before continuing, “I can take anything you throw at me. I can take the fucking nicknames and rumours and, hell, I can even take the beatings! Yes, it pisses me off an inconceivable degree but it doesn’t diminish the fact that I can fucking _take it!_ But…” He stops for a moment, his whole body tensing up as he takes yet another step back away from you, “But I can’t _ever_ forgive you for stealing _that_ from me, you complete and utter _scumbag!_ ”

Confusion washes over you, suddenly not quite sure why he was reacting so strongly, “Stealing what? A kiss?”

“MY FIRST!” He screams, loud enough so that the following silence seems almost painfully barren.

And then it hits you, your mouth falling open and brow pulling down in realization. You had stolen his first kiss. Karkat Vantas, the 17 year old who religiously watched romance movies. The 17 year old who had probably based all his expectations of a first kiss from them. And you had stolen it in a clumsy, drunken moment you had forced upon him.

You don’t need to be able to see his eyes to know that he is sending you daggers, his whole body was shaking and you knew it wasn’t because of the cold rain drenching the both of you. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that right now, you were the person he hated most in the world.

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t try to fix things.

“I understand.” You say quietly and calmly, taking a step towards him which only causes him to take a further step back.

“No you don’t.”

“Yes. Yes I do.” Your voice is firmer this time and when you step closer he doesn’t move back, letting you come to a halt right in front of him. But he refuses to look up, body still stubbornly rigid as dips his head to hide his face beneath his hood.

You reach up, grabbing at the soaked material to push it away from his head, letting your fingers push through his hair as you do so. You’re quick enough so that he can’t stop you, his mouth falling open to complain before he pushes it closed again, eyes wide with the hurt he couldn’t hide anymore.

The rain has spotted your shades with water, blurring your vision enough for you to pull them away from your eyes, letting them sit on top of your wet hair instead. Everything in you screams in protest, wanting to hide away again behind the comfort of the dark glass, but you refuse to give in. Not this time.

“Can I try again?” You ask, deadly serious as you swallow nervously, forcing your eyes to keep the contact.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He grumbles in return, but his cheeks had turned a pleasant shade of red in response which causes the smallest of smirks to pull at the corner of your lips.

“I stole something important. Can I return it?” You shuffle closer to him so that your bodies are almost touching. And you can pick out the way his hair turned dark blonde when wet, the way his eyes flickered down to look at your lips nervously, the way his own lips parted in response.

He watches you warily as you raise a hand to lightly grasp at his chin, pulling his lips close to your own before you stop, hesitate for a second. You know that he could pull away now if he wanted to. He could stop this from happening if that was what he really wished. But he doesn’t, giving you the signal to continue as you lightly push your lips to his.

This kiss was a lot different to the one you had wrongfully taken back at the party, soft, gentle, and after a second or two, actually _returned._

You figure that if he wanted romantic, it couldn’t get much better than this. A slow kiss in the rain? This was bordering on something that would normally make you roll your eyes in distaste; but then again, it was different when you were the one taking part in the act. Or maybe it was just because you were doing it with _him._

Regardless, you find yourself encouraging it, hands reaching up to rest on his cheeks as you trail your thumbs lightly along the bruised skin beneath his eyes. Sensing his body relax slightly, it’s you who breaks the kiss this time, all signs of a smile gone as you study his face carefully as you step back.

He’s not smiling either, fingers moving to push against the lips you still remember the taste of, eyes wide beneath a creased brow. Scared, confused, and still a little angry, he doesn’t say a word. He simply drops his hand and turns away.

You watch him walk away from you until you can’t see him anymore, the heavy feeling of regret pushing down on your shoulders. Pulling your rain soaked shades back over your eyes provides no comfort to the looming sickness you can feel wash over you.

Because he’s gone.

And what have you done?

_What have you done?_


	4. Chapter 4

You don’t think you’ve ever been as self destructive as what you are now.

Waking on your couch with a hangover from hell the morning after the party had only been the start of a long day of self loathing, made only worse by Bros amused teasing at your lightweight tendencies.

But then again, whatever Bro said could never be worse than what you already had to face. And your mind keeps replaying the whole night over and over again, everything fuzzy and unclear apart from the parts that matter the most. It was infuriating, not being able to remember exactly how you got home from the party, or what music you had played or whether you had talked to any of the guys from the football team; but then you can remember the exact shade of red his cheeks had turned when he had pushed you away angrily, the unsure way he had moved his lips when finally returning your kiss, the way his hair clung to his forehead in the rain.

It was enough to drive you insane.

You are in desperate need of a smoke, but you used up all your cigarettes the day before. The day when you had thought it couldn’t get any worse.

You lock yourself in the bathroom, fingers curling over the cool edge of the sink as you force yourself to look at your reflection. Reaching up, you grab at the shades, let them fall into the sink with a loud clatter as you meet your own eyes in the mirror.

Bloodshot eyes, lined with slightly bruised skin from lack of sleep, beneath blonde hair that was uncharacteristically scruffy, dry lips pushed together in a grim line. You’ve never looked more like him. It was as though he was judging you himself, hidden behind a window in your bathroom wall.

_Dave strider is a fucking faggot._

You can just hear the taunts now. Because he may not have told everyone about you being albino, but it’s almost certain that he would tell people you had kissed him. Especially after how angry he had been the night before.

And it was all your fault.

Quickly pushing away from the sink, you move to the toilet, reaching it just in time before your legs give out beneath you and you are retching into it, feeling your stomach heave. Except no relief comes after you have finished being sick, the result only leaving you to feel more disgusted with yourself than ever as you wipe your mouth on your sleeve. Your body turns slack, exhausted, as you lean against the side of the toilet, trying to swallow away the sour taste left in your mouth.

Your eyes catch on the side of Bro’s razor by the sink, its sharp blades shining silver in the harsh bathroom light.

Maybe you could just…

Just a little release.

Maybe then it would feel better.

“Dave.”

The voice interrupts your thoughts, eyes snapping from the razor towards the closed bathroom door.

“What?” Your voice is hoarse, barely audible and you hear Bro shift about slightly on the other side of the door.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” You are quick to reply and the long silence afterwards lets you know that Bro doesn’t believe you. Hell, even you wouldn’t believe you if you could hear how you sounded at that moment.

After what seems like an eternity he replies, “Have a glass of water and then meet me on the roof.”

And then he is gone, his footsteps growing quiet as you run fingers through the mess your hair had become. It was so typical of Bro to want to strife when you were at your weakest. He was always pushing you to be stronger. But you weren’t.

Pulling yourself back to your feet, you try to ignore the unsettling feeling in your stomach, threatening to make you throw up again. Your head was screaming at you to stop being so pathetic, your body crying out for you to crawl into bed and never emerge again. And you were finding it hard to resist both.

Shades firmly back in place and hair slightly more tamed than it was before, you emerge from the bathroom, drinking several glasses of water before heading to the roof.

And he’s already there, waiting. Grey cap pulled down so that its shadow covers most of his face, only the very points of his shades visible. He chucks you a sword, spinning his own around in one gloved hand, the blade glinting in the sun.

“Are you ready?” He asks and you try your best to look prepared, sending him a small nod.

He advances towards you and although you know this is the ultimate test, you have already assigned yourself to lose from the very start. Because you can’t be as strong as he desperately wants you to be. Not now.

So your movements are slow, defence weak as you make no move to send him any attacks.

“What’s wrong?” He asks in between sweeps of his sword, his voice accusing and unimpressed rather than worried.

“Nothing.” You growl back, dodging out of the way, but doing it sloppily enough to land yourself a small slash of the blade along your arm.

You hiss, the pain sharp but definitely welcome, leaving you to wonder how many times you could get another like it without Bro catching on that you weren’t avoiding them on purpose.

“Bullshit.” His low voice mutters back at you before his leg swings to kick at your own. You let it hit, the dull pain different from the cut, sure to leave a bruise, but not any less welcome.

“Leave it be.”

“No, fucking tell me what’s wrong.” He says, voice full of dominant authority as he swings the blade again.

And this time you don’t even attempt to move, standing stock still and eyes locked on him as the blade slices across your chest quickly, deep enough to maybe even leave a scar. There is a second of silence between the two of you before you let out a pained gasp, eyes dropping down to your chest to take in the ripped shirt, the dark red stain starting to show through the white material.

“Fuck.” Bro mutters and, before you know it, he had dropped his sword, moving towards you so that he could hook an arm beneath your knees, lifting you up into his arms.

The sharp pain in your chest sends adrenaline coursing through your body. You needed this pain. You _deserved_ this pain.

Eyes slipping closed, you let your head tip to the side so that it knocks against Bro’s shoulder, finally letting your exhaustion, pain and sickness take over. You’re only vaguely aware of Bro carrying you back down the stairs to your apartment before you black out completely.

 

Waking several hours later you find yourself in your bed, Bro sat in a chair beside you, his face just as impassive as always besides a small crease of concern in his brow.

“Take this.” He hands you a glass of water and two painkillers which you take gratefully, wincing slightly as you sit up. There was a tight white bandage wrapped around your chest, the sting of the cut still fresh enough to cause you pain.

Bro leans forward in his chair, lips pushed together in silence as he studies you from behind his shades. You wish you had your own pair to hide behind but he has taken them from you, leaving you aware of how dishevelled you look.

“Are you going to tell me why you didn’t dodge?” His voice is demanding and you try your hardest not to wince slightly as you try to formulate an answer.

“I was just tired, that’s all.”

“Tired.” He repeats, tone heavy with disbelief, “ _Tell me_ what’s wrong.”

“Nothing.” You lie, forcing yourself to keep eye contact, or at least the best you can do with a pair of shades.

“Bullshit. Tell me what’s wrong.” He studies you and you push your lips together, determined not to say a word. He sighs, frustrated, pulling off his cap to run a hand through his blonde hair, just a shade darker than your own.

“Is it school? Friends? Having girl trouble? Throw me a rope here kiddo.”

You tense slightly, eyes dropping to the bed away from him.

“Ah, hit a nerve there didn’t I? Which was it? The girl trouble?”

You can’t hold back the sarcastic smirk that tiredly pulls at your lips at the thought. Ha, _girl_ trouble.

“What’s she called?” He asks and you widen your eyes at him.

“Fuck off, I don’t have any problems with girls.”

A long silence falls between you and you look away from him again, picking at the slightly frayed end of your bandage. When his voice comes again, it’s quieter, almost softer, if he was capable of that kind of thing.

“What’s _he_ called?”

You freeze, swallowing hard as you feel your heart pick up a beat.

“I’m not gay.” And your voice is strained, eyes darting around the room.

“Dave… Dave look at me.” His voice is commanding again and you force your gaze back on him although it’s almost painful to keep it there. He pauses for a minute and you swear that you can see just the faintest of smiles pull at the corner of his mouth.

“Dave, I’ve known you your whole life. I saw the way you lit up when talking about that John kid all those years ago, I noticed when you never seemed as interested in girls as the other boys your age. And I can see it now. Right here.” He lifts a gloved hand, pointing two fingers at your eyes, close enough to make you blink in reflex.

“I…” You croak out, mouth dry and face pale.

“What’s his name?”

“N-none of your fucking business…” You finally find your voice, sending him the strongest glare you could conjure.

He laughs quietly, seemingly pleased by your display of stubborn retaliation. There was a little fight left in you yet.

“Well, just so you know, gay or not, you’ll still be my best bro, ok?” His eyebrows rise, lips quirking upwards slightly in a smile you wished you could return. You manage a nod instead and he lets out a sigh, pulling the cap back on over his head as he stands, heading towards your bedroom door.

In the doorway, he pauses, turning halfway back towards you, “And whoever the guy is; if it’s meant to be, then it will happen.”

You open your mouth to reply with a sarcastic comment, but he’s already disappeared from earshot, leaving you to snap it shut again. You lie back on the bed, feeling the harsh sting of your cut with every breath and unable to shake Bro’s words from your head.

…

The air is cold enough to turn your breath into small clouds of condensation as you breathe it out and you shiver, wishing you had brought your jacket. Shifting against the wall outside the school, you try not to let the pain of your chest show on your face, despite it having had two days to heal already. The cut was still pretty deep.

You don’t think you have ever been at school this early on a Monday morning, your body aching for the warm bed back home. But you knew that _he_ arrived around this time, and you couldn’t afford to miss him.

Sure enough, it’s mere minutes before you see the small hunched figure walk up the pathway, breathing out his own plumes of icy smoke as he shuffles towards the school. His cheeks are flushed against the harsh temperature, brow pulled down into his usual frown as he kicks at a loose stone with his scruffy conversed foot.

You push off against the wall, walking quickly and following him up the steps and into the warmth of the school. You manage to close the distance between you along the corridor and, although the place isn’t busy this early before class, you are still aware of the small amount of people around you. But you can’t just let him get away now. Not until you have made him swear not to say a word, by any means necessary.

So you take your initiative and, stalking up close behind him, you grab at his arm, making him startle as you yank him after you into the guy’s toilets.

“What the f-“ He exclaims, face falling in angry shock as the door closes behind the two of you, leaving you alone beside the empty stalls.

You are quick to use your grip on his arm to shove him harshly against the far wall, pinning him there as your other hand forms a steely grip on his shoulder to hold him in place. His eyes are wide, mouth moving to form words he can’t quite say as his cheeks flush darker. For a moment you wonder whether he thinks you are going to kiss him again and you feel the need to banish those thoughts from his head immediately.

“You listen to me Karkat Vantas, and you listen good,” You say, words laced with venom as you are sure to keep your face scarily blank, everything about you determined to be intimidating. And you can tell that it’s working because he’s stopped trying to say something, your eyes catching the movement in his throat as he swallows nervously.

You push your face closer, glare burning through your shades, “There are certain things that happened last Friday night that you cannot tell another soul. And you know exactly what I am talking about. You tell, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“But-“

“Shut up.” You practically spit back at him, but he seems to have found his own fight by now, his eyes narrowing at you.

“ _No._ Not until you give me a fucking explanation you dickweed. Why did you do it?” He pushes back against the hand on his shoulder but you are quick to shove him back, trying not to focus on the small breath he had let out as his back hit the wall again.

“It was a mistake.”

“A mistake you made _twice?!_ ” He hisses at you, his face set and determined, causing a flash of a frown to pass across your lips.

“A mistake I’m never going to make again. I’m not fucking gay. And I especially do not like _you._ ” You move the hand on his arm to point at him, finger pushing hard against his chest, “You hear me?”

“I hear you. But it doesn’t mean I fucking believe you. Why do you have to be such a lying twat? That’s what annoys me the most, not the things you do, but the way you _deny_ you ever did them. Like a fucking coward.” He pushes his face close and you can’t hide the way your face screws up in anger at his words.

“I’m not a coward.”

“Yes you are. You, Dave Strider, are a fucking _pussy_ for not admitting to things we both know are true,” His body pushes back against your hand again. You are practically boiling with anger, hatred, everything negative you could ever feel, and it’s all directed at him. Because he was calling you a coward. A liar.

“I’m not a liar…” You say, breathing heavy and teeth clamped together, wanting to punch him, or punch yourself. Maybe even both.

“Well, let’s fucking put that to the test, shall we?” His voice is strained, own jaw clenched in anger as he makes one final push against your hand on his shoulder, freeing himself of the wall. And he’s suddenly grasped at your face with his hands, his fingers cool on your burning cheeks as he pulls you in closer.

His lips on your own has your eyes snapping shut tightly, hands curling into fists in an attempt to release everything building up inside you somehow. You had to release it some other way. You refused to release it by kissing him back.

But then again, you never did have the strongest of willpowers around him.

And so instead you bring your hands up, fingers uncurling as they take up a better option and push into the messy white of his hair. His kiss is a lot different to how he had been the other night, shy and careful with his movements when you had kissed him at the party, but this time much more dominant and passionate. It was as though he was trying to show you that he could fight back too.

His tongue slips along your bottom lip, his body pushing up against yours as he does so. And it’s as though you are becoming unhinged, giving in to him completely as you part your lips, granting him access to your mouth. As his tongue flicks against yours, there is little else you can think of other than the fact that all you want is him. All of him. Every last bit.

You push back against him, hands slipping downward to grasp around his waist, pulling him close at the same time so that your bodies only increase their contact, quickening your breath against the kiss. And you are sure that you hear a small noise come from Karkat as you do it, his fingers curling on your cheeks in a way that would have scratched you had his fingernails not been bitten down to nothing.

His mouth moves fast, relentless and unforgiving against your lips, as though moving in time to the insanely fast beat your heart had picked up. All you could think of was his taste, his stomach pushing forcefully back against yours. The kiss was so heated so quickly, so persistent and messy, so _wonderful._

You were so immersed it was almost a surprise you even heard the door opening behind you, the voices of two boys entering the toilets. But once your brain had figured out what was happening, you were quick to pull back, eyes snapping wide open onto Karkat’s own shocked face.

A split second was all you had and they had turned the corner, stopping as they saw how close the two of you were stood, his hands still on you face and your arms still around his waist. Panic washed over you, rendering you immobile as you suddenly felt Karkat’s grip on you push your head sideways.

Forehead hitting the cool wall hard, you let out a small cry in pain, gasping as you felt a hard kick in your gut soon after. It took a moment for you to realize that Karkat was fighting you, beating you up in an attempt to show the two onlookers that your close proximity had been nothing more than the beginning of a rough fight rather than the end of an intimate kiss.

Playing along, you use your grip on his waist to twist his body to the floor, a small angry growl tearing past your lips as you raise one fist to swing down at him. And it would seem you were convincing enough, because one of the boys had excitedly run from the toilets, yelling into the corridor outside, “ _FIGHT!_ ”

Less than a minute later, the toilets had become crowded with onlookers shouting taunts and encouragement as the two of you wrestled together on the floor, throwing kicks and punches with as much enthusiasm as you could muster. You manage to bust his lip and you allow him to yank at your hair hard enough to make your eyes water slightly.

It was no less harsh than any fight you had previously fought with him, but it seemed to be charged with a different kind of electricity than usual. Your eyes relished in the bright red blood spilling from his lip and you could see the almost cruel smirk he had flashed your way when he had hit your injured chest and you had cried out from the pain.

But it was all a short lived kind of passion, because soon enough the crowd was parted as a teacher moved in to pull you apart. He was scowling, bald head shining as he glares down at the two of you, one in each hand.

You stare hard at Karkat, watch him smear blood across his chin as he wipes angrily at his lip and you are sure to keep your expression blank from any emotion.

“Strider. Vantas. We do not tolerate fighting in this school and I will see both of you in afterschool detention tonight,” The teacher hisses at you before releasing you, pushing you slightly in the direction the door, “Now go to class _immediately._ ”

_**…** ___

You had been in detention plenty of times before, and it had always seemed like such a waste of an hour when you could have been doing something better with your time. But as you sat beside Karkat at the long desk running along the back of the mostly empty classroom, you couldn’t help but feel this detention was much more enjoyable than previous ones. 

A few other students were scattered in front of you, their backs turned your way as they faced the bored looking teacher sat at the front, his squinty eyes reading over a book as he supervised you writing lines. But his supervision wasn’t thorough enough to pick out the fact that you spent most of the hour simply watching Karkat religiously write out lines in scrawly, messy handwriting rather than write your own. 

Occasionally Karkat would nervously glance your way, send you a scowl that you would return with a smirk. And then half way through the hour, he slipped his free hand beneath the desk you shared, his fingers nervously hovering over your own hand resting on your leg. 

And you had frozen, chewing at your bottom lip in a slightly agitated manner as your eyes stalked the nervous movement of his fingers as they gently ran over the back of your hand. The touch was barely there but enough to make you breathe in sharply at the contact. You slowly twist your hand so that it is palm facing up, fingers splayed in an invitation he quickly accepts, interlacing his fingers with yours and squeezing tightly. 

He doesn’t look at you, other hand still carefully writing out lines, but his cheeks had flushed dark red and the frown on his lips told you that if you even attempted to say something he would have no problem with sending you another punch right there in detention. 

So all you can do is squeeze back, shifting your hand so that it moves from your leg, your linked fingers hanging in the air between your two chairs, swinging lightly. It’s strange, but it’s not unwelcome and you like the fact that a little piece of you is keeping this contact with him, longer than a punch or a kiss. Just linking you. 

Yeah, you’d been in detention plenty of times before and never once had you enjoyed it. Except this time you got to hold Karkat Vantas’s hand until the very end. And you almost let yourself believe that you didn’t want to be anywhere else. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one gets only slightly NSFW, so just a warning about that.
> 
> Also, thank you to everyone who has given me kudos/comments and especially thank you to the two lovely people who fanarted this fic here:
> 
> midnighttumbling.tumblr.com/post/26483359351/albino-karkat-this-fanfiction-its-davkat-even
> 
> rradioactiveppanda.tumblr.com/post/26365209842/fanart-for-this-brilliant
> 
> You guys are super perfect.

The detention ends with his hand slipping from yours, and you feel the break in contact more than you want to admit, following him silently out of the classroom and waiting until you were out of earshot of the other students before you glance his way again.

“Do you want me to walk you home?”

He looks up at you, surprised, tongue running along his bottom lip, still bloodied from the fight. His brow creases, “I’m perfectly capable of walking my own ass home Strider. I don’t need an escort.”

“Is that a no?” You raise your eyebrows at him, hands shoving deep into your jeans pockets as you try to look calmer than you actually felt.

His frown twitches slightly, eyes staring you down for a second or two before he lets out a flustered sigh, turning to stalk off down the corridor. He turns slightly in your direction as he moves, “Come on then dipshit, I haven’t got all day.”

Smiling to yourself, you catch him up, bracing yourself against the cold air as the two of you step outside, side by side. And you want to hold his hand again, warm yourself against his body heat. But you know that you can’t; fingers twitching in your pockets as you try to keep up with his fast pace.

For a long time, you are both silent, only the sound of your footsteps and the occasional passing car making a noise. You know you should talk about what had happened, swallow your pride and apologize for being such a dick to him all this time. But the words catch in your throat, your eyes unable to pull themselves away from the path in front of you. You weren’t comfortable with this kind of thing.

He breaks the silence instead, and you can tell that he’s been thinking of what to say for a long time, sounding more confident than you could ever hope to achieve in that situation.

“How long have you liked me?”

_Fuck. Straight to the point._

“Uh…” Your voice is hoarse and you swallow before continuing, “I… well, since… I first saw you, I guess.” It’s almost painful to say. You don’t think you have ever talked about your feelings like this, but you owed him honesty at least.

“Really?” 

You see him look across at you out of the corner of your eye, but you aren’t ready to look back at him yet.

“Yeah… I thought you were beautiful.”

And wow, that was way more than you had wanted to let slip because your cheeks were starting to flush and there is a flash of pain in your expression before you quickly shrug it away. _Play it cool, Dave, don’t make it seem like a big deal._

He’s infuriatingly silent for a minute, forcing you to tear your gaze from the path up to his face in order to investigate. And you really wish you hadn’t looked because he’s wearing just the faintest of smiles on his lips, eyes distant as he stares at the ground. You don’t think you’ve seen him genuinely smile before, the sight of it unfamiliar but strangely appealing.

Then just as quick as it was there, it’s gone again as he catches your eye. He sends you a glare to show that he hadn’t wanted you to see that but all you can do is smirk in reply.

“Why were you such a fucking asswipe to me, then? You make a fat load of no sense, Strider.” He mumbles in small growl, sniffing slightly as you both focus back on the path, eye contact dropped.

“It’s difficult to explain.” You say, lips pushing closed, not willing to say more. Like hell were you going to get all deep and inner turmoil with him. No way.

“Wow, thanks for that detailed reason! I’m so much fucking happier now that you’ve fully explained the inner workings of your pea of a brain.” He retorts and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s rolling his eyes.

“Fuck off dickhead, it’s just that-“ You cut off, freezing instantly so that Karkat has to stop after a few steps to turn and look at you, confused. His mouth drops open in question before he follows your line of sight, tensing himself as he catches what you had seen.

Up ahead, lounged across a set of benches and making enough noise to imitate a pack of animals, sat nearly half the guys from the football team. You recognized most of them, knew a few of their names, even dared to call some of them almost friends. But you also knew that _all_ of them were top class douchebags. There wasn’t going to be an easy way out of this one.

“Let’s cross the road.” Karkat says, and you can hear the strain in his voice, suddenly realizing that for every reason you had to be nervous or scared, he had a hundred more.

You nod, following him across the road and continuing along the path with a knot in your stomach that has you feeling ill. Your eyes are fixed on the ground, everything in you praying that they won’t see you as you hear them grow louder, coming closer from across the empty road. But you were never that lucky.

“Strider! Hey! Dave Strider!”

You slow your pace just slightly, managing to flash the group a forced smile with pale lips, even attempting a small wave with one hand. But you don’t stop walking, desperate to get away as you can sense Karkat cringing away to your side, his shoulders more hunched than usual.

“Come join us!” One of the guys shouts across and you can’t find the words to reply with so shake your head instead. He frowns and you can’t help but notice that the rest of the group had turned silent, full attention fixed on you. When he shouts again, his tone is a little less friendly than before, “Too busy walking with the freak?”

You see Karkat flinch at the exact same time as you do. Your fists curl up at your sides, pace slowing more as you turn in the group’s direction, mouth pulled into a scowl.

“Fuck off.” You curse back at them and there is a moment of stunned silence on their side before one of them bursts into laughter, soon followed by the rest.

“Hit a nerve, did we? What is he, your _boyfriend?_ ” One of them jokes and you swear you can feel the heat of anger bubble up in your chest, needing to be released. And you take a step towards the road, fists rising only slightly before you feel a firm grip on your arm, pulling you back.

“Leave it, you stupid fucker.” Karkat hisses at you, yanking at your arm to pull you along with him. You start to protest but he’s quick to send you daggers with his eyes, fingers tightening painfully on your arm before he releases you. And you realize he is right, it would be stupid to take on a whole group of them just because you couldn’t control your anger.

So you send them the middle finger, following Karkat off down the path at a resumed speedy pace until their laughter was out of earshot and you were back to the familiar silence and footsteps.

You suddenly can’t escape this overwhelming feeling of sadness that washes over you, eyes flickering across to Karkat’s face, flushed with embarrassment. Because you have come to the realization how much those taunts had really kind of hurt, wondering how you could have been so careless at throwing so many like them at Karkat over the past few years. If there was ever a good time to apologize, you finally felt this was it.

“I’m sorry,” You say and his gaze snaps in your direction, “I’m sorry for everything I said to you, or about you. I’m sorry for being such a dick and lying to you as well… I’m really fucking sorry.”

You can’t look at him as you say it, but the words are genuine, leaving you feeling vulnerable and exposed. It’s not a feeling you enjoy.

“It’s alright.” He says, the usual anger absent from his tone as you feel his hand on your arm again, squeezing it gently this time before he releases. It’s a comforting gesture and although he doesn’t say any more, you know that he understands. 

You walk in silence the rest of the way, observing as you walk how your surroundings become a little rougher, a little more run down than the expensive area your own apartment resides in. When he eventually stops in front of a block of apartments you take a small while to study the various graffiti on the walls and scattered litter across the ground. In the distance, a dog barks, followed by a screech from a woman telling it to “shut its fucking mouth”.

He catches your appraisal and you can tell he’s embarrassed, mouth pulled firmly down as he takes a step back towards his door quickly as his eyes dart about. 

“Well, I guess I’ll see you…” He starts to say and you frown, attention firmly back on him. It seemed wrong for the two of you to part when nothing had really been explained. Not really.

You didn’t even know if he liked you as much as you liked him. And you can’t help but try to figure out exactly what the two of you were. Friends? Enemies? _Boyfriends?_ You shake the thought from your head.

“Yeah, I’ll… see you.” You reply, words unsure. And a silence falls between the two of you again as he makes no move to enter the apartment block and you make no move to leave. The two of you just stand there, facing each other awkwardly. 

Karkat starts to chew on his lower lip, his fingers playing with the edges of his sleeves, and you try your hardest not to pay too much attention to the way his teeth pull at the pink skin. You try and fail. Eyes looking back up again you find them hitting his own and you take a step towards him involuntarily, as though he pulled you in with just one look.  
You want to kiss him. You want it so bad that your lips part in anticipation, desperate for his taste and touch. And your fingers reach out to brush against the back of his hand lightly, feeling it move beneath your touch.

He pulls back, eyes flashing around nervously as his cheeks flare up, “I… can’t. My dad might see…” He says and you don’t miss the flicker of fear in his wide eyes.

You hadn’t considered the fact that his parents might not be as accepting about it as your Bro had been. And you can tell that he’s really scared about it, his head turning to look up at the dirty windows nervously before turning back to you.

“I have to go… he’ll flip a fucking roof if he finds out I had detention.” He says, mouth screwing up worriedly as he brings a hand up to bite at his already non-existent fingernails.

“It’s alright,” You say, but it’s not alright because, _fuck_ , you want to hold him and kiss him and see that god damn adorable smile again. But he’s already stepping away, hand reaching for the door as he pulls it open. He glances back your way, wide eyed before he disappears behind it and you are alone once more.

…

Pain is all you can feel as your eyes crack open, taking a moment to adjust to your surroundings.

So much pain.

It was white and red and a whole rainbow of colours dancing across your vision as you let out a stuttered gasp, sitting yourself up slowly. There is blood on your chest from where your wound from Bro’s sword had split and bled through the bandages, and your nose had been bleeding too, the dark blood caked dry across your cheek and lips. Your stomach aches, your shoulder feels jarred and you can almost feel the bruises forming across your legs.

You’d been well and truly beaten.

And after a moment of confusion as you straighten your shades and glance around at the empty park, it suddenly all comes rushing back to you.

It had been two days since you had walked Karkat home from detention and two days since you had told a whole bunch of footballer douchebags to fuck off. Apparently that was enough for them to get seriously pissed at you.

_“What were you doing with that Vantas weirdo the other day?”_

_“You think you’re fucking cool with those shades? Stupid faggot.”_

_“You’re just as weird as him.”_

_“You think it’s funny to blow us off like that and flip us the finger?”_

_“You need to learn your place, Strider.”_

You had known they could be pretty unstable as far as friends go, and you had known that they were red blooded enough to get worked up when someone made them look stupid. But you hadn’t realized that by denting their pride only slightly, they would put some pretty big dents right back into your body.

You remember feeling pathetic, useless, all that fighting training gone to waste simply because you were heavily outnumbered. You had practically let them beat you unconscious; leave you behind in the park alone. Bloodied and bruised.

Pushing yourself to your feet and feeling your body ache in return, you lick at the dried blood on your lips and lift your shirt to inspect the damage done to your chest. You want to cry, but like fuck are you going to start spilling any tears in public. So you start to head quickly home, limping a little despite your best attempts not to.

And you are glad that Bro is out when you reach the flat, already left for work, no doubt, considering it was nearly 9pm. How long had you been laid unconscious? You’d only gone for a walk at 6…

Pulling the bloodied shirt over your head, you let it fall to the floor, shuffling into your bedroom so that you can observe yourself in the mirror.

The first thing you notice is how small and skinny you look compared to the guys that had beaten you. Lanky, pale, stained in dark red. You were a mess.

You start to laugh, lips pulled up as you breathe out a scratchy chuckle which soon turns into nothing more than a choked sob. And your fingers move to push hard against the forming bruises so that you flinch from the pain. Pain that you _needed_.

Collapsing onto your bed, you reach down to retrieve the hidden bottle of vodka from underneath, still half full from when you had stolen it from Bro last week. It’s comforting to have, a break in your choked breathing as you take a long drink, not stopping for air as though you were drowning yourself in the bitter clear liquid. It washes away the taste of blood, numbs the senses and the panicked delusions your mind had resorted to.

You weren’t going to cry anymore. You didn’t think you had it in you. And you find yourself wondering if you even had it in you to kill yourself.

Ending it all with suicide was something you had thought about often, but then you knew you would never actually go through with it. Fucking coward. He had been right about you all along when he had called you a pussy.

A groan slips past your lips and you force another swallow of the alcohol because you’d managed to bring your thoughts back round to him again. Always to him.

But it’s not all bad things filling your head and for once you find yourself actually having real memories to fall back on rather than the fabricated fiction you’d always thought up when thinking of him. Now all it took was a second before your eyes were closed and you were back with him in the toilets, his tongue pushing past your lips and your body pressing against his. And you remember how he had kissed you fast, hungry for your taste in a way that had your chest aching and your hips squirming on the bed.

Pain momentarily forgotten in the midst of your thoughts, you let your hand brush lightly across the bandage and bare skin of your chest, imagining it was his fingers pushing across your stomach. You felt wound up like a spring, full of hurt and need and so much more emotion, it was as though you might explode. You needed to find some form of release.

And it only grew more intense as your mind flickers over the way he’d curled his fingers against your cheek, the small noise he’d let slip as you had pulled him up against you roughly. It was enough to make your breathing quicken, the almost empty bottle of vodka slipping from your grasp as you instead move your hand to unbutton your jeans.

In your head things accelerate too quickly and you find yourself leaving the real memory of what happened behind in order to fulfil your own fantasy. Because you wish that the two of you hadn’t been interrupted like you had. You wish you could have used your grasp on him to push him hard against the wall as you kissed him.

You push your hands into your jeans to grasp at yourself through your boxers, already hard as you imagine him taking his lips across your jaw and neck, his hands running up and down your sides before settling on your hips. And you think of how he would pull at your jeans, unbuttoning them just as you had done so that he could palm your erection in the same way that you did now.

You let out a ragged sigh, needing more contact as you move to dip your fingers into your boxers. Maybe he would take his time when he touches your bare skin, leaving heated kisses against your collarbone so that your head tips back. And you start to stroke your erection with shaking fingers, the sensation making you moan out his name in a slightly embarrassing way.

But _god_ you wanted him. You wanted him to take your member in his mouth, suck at it with those pretty pink lips of his until you couldn’t take any more. You bite at your own lip, sliding your hand up and down almost desperately, thoughts of him touching you, tasting you, running through your head. And you pick up the pace, hips jolting up against your hand in need for more as you thrust into your palm. Your lips part, tongue remembering the flicks of Karkat’s own and you imagine what he would do with that tongue in other places.

_Oh fuck._

You imagine his ruby eyes hitting yours as he takes all of you into his mouth, and it’s all you need to finish yourself off because all of a sudden you are tensing your whole body in an orgasm, cum spilling into your boxers. You slow the stroking of your hand, eyes snapping open to stare at the ceiling as your breathing turns less erratic.  
You’re suddenly very disgusted with yourself. Underwear sticky and uncomfortable, you realize that you are still covered in dry blood and dirt. You ache all over and you are already more than a little drunk and you had just got yourself off thinking about Karkat touching you.

You sick fucking freak.

Curling up your fingers against the bedsheets tightly, you let yourself sink deeper into the self loathing you had become so accustomed to. And you figure that if you don’t find a way to get away from your own thoughts, you might just turn mad.

So you sit up quickly, frowning at the wave of pain that washes over you before you push your shades up the bridge of your nose. You stand, hands already moving to pull off your bloodied bandages and messed up jeans. Because you needed to get out the flat, you didn’t want to be alone.

And there was only one person you really wanted to see.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argh, gosh. Thank you to everyone who has given this Kudos/ commented/ bookmarked. You're amazing.
> 
> And look! More super fanart:  
> computer-sexual.tumblr.com/post/26660167205  
> kk-vantas.tumblr.com/post/26803841855/so-like-after-reading-to-the-current-situation
> 
> I've gotten into the habit of listening to this song whilst writing chapters for this fic -> www.youtube.com/watch?v=WZOBRbVCJL4
> 
> It seems to fit the cherry douchebags quite well I think. Hm. Yes.

“Fuck.” You curse as you stumble over a loose paving stone on the sidewalk, the thought crossing your mind that maybe you should take your shades off considering it was now pushing midnight and the streets were too dark for you to be able to see even if you had been fully sober.

You aren’t far from Karkat’s place, your heart pounding in anticipation as you attempt to tame your hair slightly. You’d managed to clean up most of the blood before you left, changing into some clean clothes, which probably hadn’t been the best idea considering how drunk you had been when picking out what to wear. So you found yourself dressed in a bright blue knitted sweater, a gift you had received from your friend Rose and vowed never to wear ever. Hell, you think even she only sent you it as a joke. But it had been the first thing you’d seen in your wardrobe unfortunately.

Pushing out a small, low laugh at how ridiculous you looked, you find yourself wondering what the fuck you were actually doing. Surely you weren’t going to see him in this condition with your head still so messed up and your appearance far from perfect.

But it seemed too late to turn back now, the familiar apartment block coming into view and leaving you with a new obstacle. Because like fuck did you know which floor he lived on.

“KARKAT!” You find yourself yelling, your own voice making you startle as you let out a hiccup, head tipping back to face the sky as you shout again, “KAAARKAAAT! KARKAT! KARRRRRKAT!”

A few lights turn on in the apartment block and one angry looking woman pokes her head out the window to scowl at you, causing you to send her a cocky salute so that she huffs and disappears again.

“KAR-“

“Shut the fuck up!”

You snap your attention in the direction of the familiar voice, eyes catching on the silhouette of Karkat in an open window three floors up. He was wearing a loose grey shirt, pale skinny arms gripping at the window ledge as he leans out to send you an incredulous stare.

You fight back a smile, knowing that despite the fact that his hair was especially messy, he probably hadn’t been sleeping. Nobody with bruised skin beneath their eyes, like he had, got an awful lot of sleep.

“Jesus fuck, Strider. Can I fucking _help_ you?” He hisses down at you, desperate to keep the loudness of his voice down but failing.

“Yeah, you can let me in for a start and-“

“No. Nope. One way ticket to nopeville, jackass. I’m not letting you in so you can fuck right off.”

“Then come with me.” You shrug your shoulders as if it were obvious and he shakes his head furiously, leaning back away from the window a little so that the light from his room catches the white of his hair.

“Why should I?”

“Why not?” You send him a smirk, feeling yourself sway to the side before you correct yourself. But he catches it, his eyes narrowing as his mouth falls open to say something before he hesitates in thought.

“Are you… drunk?” He asks and you let out a small snort of laughter despite your best attempts not to. His face drops, one hand moving from the window ledge to point an accusing finger in your direction, “You’re fucking drunk _again_ you stupid tool… And what in the name of dicks are you _wearing_?”

You glance down at the hideous blue shapeless thing before making your face as serious as you could manage.

“It’s ironic.”

“Ironically stupid.” He retorts, but you don’t miss the flash of an amused smile that pulls at his lips as he says it, “And are you seriously wearing your shades in the dark? Has your intelligence level dropped so low that you can’t figure out that it gets dark at night?!”

“It’s iro-“

“I’m going to ironically punch you in the fucking face in a minute Strider if you don’t stop being such a massive idiot.”

You flash him a smirk, lips pushing closed as a comfortable silence falls between the two of you for a few seconds. You wondered why you’d ever though coming to see him would be a bad idea when all it took was to see his face in order to make you feel a little less mixed up on the inside. And you were stood there in that hideous blue sweater and he was leaning out his window to talk to you and there shouldn’t be anything in that situation you find romantic, but you kinda do anyway.

“Are you coming out then or not?” You finally say, taking a step back.

He hesitates, eyes glancing back into his room before looking back down at you. He was conflicted and you tried not to think about what you would do if he said no. He eventually lets out a long sigh, scowling down at you.

“Fine. But I’m getting you something else to wear, because _like fuck_ am I being seen in public with you dressed like that.”

…

The park is empty at this time of night and you lay down on the cool grass, trying to stop your head from spinning. You have more vodka in your bag, but you feel like if you even attempted to drink more of it, it would only just come up again in quite the spectacular fashion. So you instead pull it out and shove it up in Karkat’s direction where he stood looking down at you with a frown.

“I’m not drinking that…”

“Come on, man. Helps you lighten up a bit… think of it as a gift in thanks for lending me your shirt.” You shake the bottle at him until he lets out a small huff and snatches it from your grasp.

You were wearing a long sleeved black top that would have been too baggy on him, but fit your height just right. You recall how it had smelt like him when you had pulled it over your head, your eyes slipping closed as though to assign the moment to memory. It had only been shattered when you caught him staring at the bandages and forming bruises covering your bare chest.

He hadn’t mentioned it yet though, following you silently to the abandoned park and sitting beside you on the damp grass. He takes a long swig from the bottle, eyes flicking in your direction as you push your shades back into your hair in order to be able to see the stars.

After a long silence and after a few drinks of the clear liquid on his part, he breaks the silence by pointing up to the sky you had been observing blankly.

“What’s your star sign?” He asks and you let out a small snort of laughter, flashing him an unimpressed look that he returns with a frustrated frown.

“Sagittarius.” You sigh out, rolling your eyes a little as Karkat’s attention snaps back up to the stars. And then all of a sudden you feel him come closer, looking across as he lies down beside you on the grass, his arm close enough to brush against your own. You don’t mean for your breath to hitch by the sudden close proximity, but it does anyway. Although Karkat seems too preoccupied to notice.

“It’s not the right time of year for us to see Sagittarius too clearly, but you can see Scorpio pretty well just… there.” He points at a cluster of stars and you pretend to be able to see a pattern among the hundreds of pinpoints of light. He continues, his voice quiet and when you turn to look at him, you can see how wide his eyes had become, flickering across the different constellations, “The brightest star in the Scorpio constellation is actually a red supergiant star… it’s estimated to be around 230 times the size of our sun. It’s fucking _massive._ ”

You tear your eyes away from him back up to the sky but still can’t find the pattern he had pointed out. Either that, or you were too tipsy to notice it anyway. When you glance back to him, he turns his head to catch your eye, his cheeks flushing as he crosses his arms across his chest. He turns his head away from you, his words coming out as a growl.

“I just like a bit of astronomy, ok fuckwit? No need to look at me like I sit at home googling this shit. _Some people_ are actually intelligent enough to read books.”

You smile, although you know he can’t see it, his defensiveness just seeming kind of adorable considering he was getting all pissy simply because you’d caught him showing a bit of interest in the stars. You watch him take another long drink, trying not to laugh when he chokes slightly due to his lying position, coughing and spluttering a little before he regains his composure.

He sends you a glare, wiping at the liquid on his chin before he swallows what was left of it in his mouth. His head tips back against the grass again and you roll your face back in the direction of the sky.

“So what’s your star sign then? Can you see it?” There is a moment of silence and you can tell that he’s narrowed his eyes at you, trying to figure out if you were taking the piss or being serious.

“Cancer. And you’ll have to be fucking lucky to see mine considering it’s one of the faintest fucking constellations in the whole zodiac.” He huffs and after a second his voice becomes a little less angry sounding as you feel him shuffle closer to you on the ground. “But if you were rich enough to have a telescope, like no doubt your expensive Strider ass does, then you would probably be able to see it about… there.”

And he grabs at your wrist, pulling your hand up to point it in the right direction of the sky. You freeze at the sudden contact, eyes not even attempting to look at the sky in order to observe his fingers wrapped around the bare skin of your wrist. And the sudden angle has your sleeve slipping down your arm, revealing one of the many bruises you had gained earlier that day.

A beat of silence passes before Karkat lowers your arm in his grip, his other hand dropping the vodka bottle to press against the tender skin so that you flinch slightly.

“You gonna fucking explain why you’re practically black and blue now when you weren’t two days ago?” His words come across harsher than maybe even he intended and you yank your arm from his grasp, causing his face to fall apologetically.

“It’s nothing.”

“Yeah right. I’m not a dumbfuck, Dave.” He retorts and you frown, knowing that he wasn’t going to leave it be. The persistent bastard.

“Ok, so maybe I got into a bit of a fight with some of the guys from school.”

“A fight where they beat you to a pulp?! That’s not a fucking fight, Dave. What in the hell did they beat you up for?” He pushes himself up onto his elbows in order to look at you better and you suddenly hate it. You reach up to pull your shades back over your eyes, but it brings you only a little comfort.

“They were just butthurt because I didn’t hang with them the other day. No big deal, man. It’s fine.” You shrug your shoulders, suddenly wishing that you could have the vodka back so that maybe you could drink yourself into a blackout. Anything seemed better than having Karkat staring down at you in that way, understanding exactly what you meant.

Because you had been beaten for being seen with him. And you knew it was probably hurting him, just as much as all your bruises and cuts hurt.

“Oh.” He says and the sound seems so final and heartbreaking you can literally feel your chest ache from the strain of it. He drops back against the floor, his hand tipping the bottle heavily against his mouth as he drinks some more before breathing out the word, “Dickheads…”

You smile a little, nodding in agreement, “Yeah, but I can take it.”

“Ha!” Karkat gives a small snort, finishing off the bottle of vodka before he lets it drop to his side, “You couldn’t take a puppy tackling you, Strider. Every time I’ve fought you, you’re soft as fucking play-doh.”

“Shut up man,” You snap back defensively, “I beat your ass every time, and I could have beaten all their asses too if there wasn’t so many of them.”

“Yeah right,” He rolls two ruby eyes up to the sky, “You have some weird tough guy complex going on in that concave of a head of yours, when deep down you’re just puny.”

“Whoa, are you calling me puny, Vantas? Do I have to bring your height, or lack of it should I say, into this debate?” You stretch out your legs smugly as you say it, as though rubbing it in how much taller you were than him. And you hear a small grunt of annoyance in reply, watching him sit up from the ground from behind your shades.

“Don’t call me small you shithead.” He snarls, one hand reaching out to punch you in the arm. It hits a sore spot and hurts a little more than you let on, but you’re sure to send him a kick to the legs in return.

“I only speak the truth.”

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe later.”

He sends you an embarrassed glower and you can’t help but let out a quiet laugh. He’s so predictable.

The two of you fall back into silence, neither of you quite sure what to say next as he curls his legs up to his chest and you continue to stare at the sky, now starless thanks to your shades. Without the arguments and jokes to fill the air between you, it was instead filled with that strange kind of charge you could almost physically _feel_ in your bones.

Because without the stars to look at, there was only one other thing worth seeing, and although you could only see the back of his head from your position, it’s enough to tighten your chest.

You can see the way his hunched back moves lightly with his breathing, the small gap between his shirt and jeans exposing the pale skin of his lower back. And there is a small flick amongst his already messy hair that sticks out the side of his head because he’d never bothered to tame it before leaving his apartment. You just couldn’t shake the longing to touch him.

“Hey, loser.” You call softly and his head snaps in your direction, brow pulled down in annoyance, “Come lie with me.”

“Fuck off, that’s really gay.”

“Dude, you’re being an ass,” You sigh out, raising your eyebrows at him, “Stop being a dick and come lie with me.”

He mumbles something beneath his breath but finally complies, shuffling closer to you before laying back on the grass with a small huff of a sigh. And you are quick to take hold of his hand tightly, observing the way his cheeks turn a spectacular shade of red as a result.

He squeezes your hand lightly, urging you on so that you tip yourself onto your side, swinging an arm across his chest to pull him up against you. He wriggles a bit, his eyes nervously glancing into your shades before he lets out a frustrated growl, grabbing the shades and pulling them away. You smirk, blinking back at him as he meets your eyes.

“You’re such a cocky asshole.” He murmurs and you push your serious face close to his so that your words are breathed out against his cheek.

“And you’re a grumpy bastard, but it doesn’t mean you aren’t still great to cuddle.”

You squeeze your arm across his chest and he turns his head in your direction, hiccupping slightly from the shock of how close you are. And you are really close, his lips exhaling at the same time as you inhale so that you share a breath.

Eyes slipping closed, you’re kissing before you even realize you’d closed the distance, and his lips seem like a welcome relief from everything that happened to you that day. Against all the beatings and kicks and your own shameful attempt at release, the kiss seemed painfully innocent and sweet. His hand carefully brushed across your cheek before pushing into your hair and your legs bump up against his before they tangle together.

He’s still holding your hand, fingers tensing against your own as you run your tongue slowly along the roof of his mouth. He lets out a small noise sounding almost like a whimper as he pushes gently back against your lips, his own tongue running across your bottom lip in a way that sends a shiver down your spine.

This was wonderful. _He_ was wonderful. Your own grumpy little mess of a boy, who fit so perfectly in your arms and tasted so right on your lips.

He pulls back slightly, and you aren’t sure whether it’s because you are drunk, or whether it would have happened anyway, but you find the words slipping past your lips before you can stop them,

“I love you.”

And he freezes in your grasp, sending your eyes snapping wide open and your fingers tightening harshly against his.

_Oh fuck, had you really just said that?_

His face is scarily blank from surprise, wide red eyes staring back at you as his mouth tries to form words desperately. It’s painful to watch and you are quick to untangle your legs from his, pushing up away from him into a seated position. You keep your hand in his though, hoping he won’t notice.

“Sorry. Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that.” You say, trying to keep your voice calm and cool as you shrug your shoulders lightly, looking out across the park instead of at him.

“Don’t say sorry, that’s stupid.” He eventually says and you see him sit up beside you out of the corner of your eye, “I… uh… I just don’t think I can… say it back. You made my life a living hell for a really long fucking time, Dave. Part of me still hates your guts.”

You flinch at his honesty, your impassive expression breaking for the briefest of seconds as you run your hand through your hair.

“I know. It’s fine.” You say curtly, knowing that it was nothing short of what you deserved.

“Argh, you’re so frustrating!” He practically shouts at you and you glance back his way, “It’s not fine. Don’t keep lying to me like that!”

“Whatever.” You shrug and you can practically feel the heat of his anger turn up a notch. But you are already pulling your hand out of his, moving to grab at your bag as you get to your feet.

“What are you doing?”

“Going home.” You shove an arm into your bag, searching for your apartment keys. Anything to distract you from the crushing weight suddenly pushing down on your chest.

“But…”

“Fuck!” You cut him off, angry as you chuck your bag onto the ground, “I left my keys… the door locks automatically and now I’m fucking locked out.”

It was almost a last straw for you, your eyes stinging as you quickly turn away from him. You didn’t want him to see you drunkenly crying like a baby. The thought occurs to you that with all this anger and emotion, you were acting a little like him. A stubborn angry dick.

Taking a deep breath, you manage to calm yourself down enough to turn back and face him, trying not to focus on his pleading gaze and awkward stance, as though he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“My bro has a set of keys. He’s working at one of the clubs in town, I’ll just go there and get his.” You push your lips together tightly, reaching down for your shades abandoned on the ground before you place them back on your face, suddenly feeling a lot more in control.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you start to head out of the park, not stopping as you hear Karkat catch up to you.

“I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes I fucking am.”

He’s frustrating in his stubbornness, keeping in step with you no matter how fast you make your pace and eventually you let out a small growl of annoyance, turning his way to stare him down for a few silent seconds.

“Fine.” You mumble out and before you can start to walk onwards again, you feel him grab at your shoulders, holding you in place as you blink back at him in question.

“Then you should know that just because I said that I hate you, it doesn’t mean I don’t still need you.” He says, face determined as he pushes himself up on his tiptoes, his lips roughly hitting yours in a short but passionate kiss.

And it’s enough to calm the storm that had been raging in your head, sending your stomach into flips as the two of you carried on walking alongside each other.

He might not love you, but he _needs_ you and, at least for now, that was enough.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> squee more fanart, I love you thank you ever so much:  
> cookietheslayer.tumblr.com/post/27030664928/white-and-red-very-good-fanfiction-that-inspired
> 
> Sorry I suck so bad at updating.

“Isn’t this illegal?” Karkat asks as you lead him around the back of the club, the blaring sound of dance music travelling around from the front doorways, mingled with the sounds of enthusiastic clubbers, shouting and laughing drunkenly as you quickly pass them.

“Stop being such a pussy, Vantas.” You roll your eyes, smirking lightly as you see him narrowly avoid being puked on by a guy wasted out of his mind. Karkat gives a growl of disgust, his nose scrunching up as he rushes to catch up with you.

“I’m not being a pussy. I’m merely pointing out the fact that we are _underage._ And I don’t particularly feel like being fucking arrested tonight.”

“Calm down stresshead, I’ve been coming here since I was 14. They don’t give a shit because my brother works here.” You shrug your shoulders; stopping in front of a door labelled ‘Staff Only’ before you reach out to bang a fist against the wood.

A minute later and the door is flung open, revealing an angry looking woman with long blonde dreadlocks and enough piercings to raise Karkat’s eyebrows in appraisal. 

“What do y- Dave! Shit, kid, it’s been forever since I seen you round these parts,” Her face breaks into a smile, stepping forward to wrap her arms around you in a hug which is awkwardly returned.

“Hey, Kate.”

“And who is this cutie?” She frees you from her grasp, sending Karkat a small wink that has him blushing and glancing away.

“Karkat.” You push past her into the backroom of the club, “I’m just here to pick up my bro’s set of keys for the apartment.”

“Karkat?” Kate says, stepping in front of the doorway as Karkat moves to follow you, blocking him off so that he frowns, “That’s a stunnin’ pair of eyes on ya, kiddo.” She bumps a fist under his chin to tip his head up, forcing him to look at her, “I can get what Dave sees in you…”

“What do you mean by tha-“

“Kate.” You cut Karkat off and he turns to look at you at the same time as Kate does, “Where’s my bro’s keys?”

Laughing, she rolls her eyes and steps away from the door, allowing Karkat entry.

“In his locker, I’m presuming… but he’ll be pissed that you locked yourself out again.” 

You shrug to show your indifference, moving across the dirty backroom to the small set of staff lockers as she lets out a small sigh, heading over to a door leading into the club.

“I gotta get back out on the bar, but you two should stick around for a while. It was nice meeting you, Karkat.” She sends him a salute, pushing the door open and allowing the loud music to spill into the room before it became muffled again as she disappeared behind it.

You take a few minutes to find your bro’s keys in his bag, wondering why the fuck he would need to bring so much shit to work. Was the smuppet _really_ necessary?

Slamming the locker shut you turn, moving to tell Karkat you could leave but pausing when you catch him stood across the side of the room, your eyebrows raising. He’s moved towards the door leading to the club, palms pushed flat against the door as he stands on his tiptoes in order to look out the small grimy window at the dancers on the other side. He’s frozen, eyes wide as he absorbs the scene on the other side and barely notices you approach from behind.

“Argh!” He shouts out as you jab him in his sides, sending him toppling to the side before shoving you back in return, “Don’t fucking do that!”

“Sorry,” You say, but it’s not said without laughter, glancing out through the window at the dark club, “What you looking at anyway?”

“Nothing. Just… you know. Looking.” He steps back on his tiptoes and you try not to smirk at the fact that you can see through without needing the extra height. You’d only receive another shove if you pointed it out.

“It’s just a normal club… you never been in one before?”

“Of course I haven’t, dipshit, I’m seventeen. And so are you. We aren’t supposed to be here at all.” He pushes back away from the door, heading off across the room before you reach out to grab his hand and stop him, pulling the door open with your other hand.

“Don’t be such a killjoy. Come on, I’ll show you what it’s like.” You tug on his hand, the music blaring from the gap in the open door and you can see him give it a wary glance, teeth pulling at his frown. He’s nervous and unsure, but undoubtedly curious and all it takes is another tug at his hand before he’s following you out into the dark, heated room.

It’s crowded and overwhelming as you pull him after you, pushing through groups of people to head for the dancefloor. He says something behind you but his exact words are lost among the sound of blaring dance music, his fingers tightening on yours instead. And you have reached the middle of the dancefloor now so you stop and turn towards him, crowded in from every side by moving people.

He’s pushed towards you and you smile at the glare he sends the perpetrator, his head snapping back in your direction. 

“What the fuck do we do now?” He shouts, just barely audible over the music and you release his hand to take a step back from him.

“What do you think? Dance, you dumbass.” And you nod your head to the beat of the music, feeling your adrenaline spike as you catch sight of Bro working the turntables over the crowd. 

“I don’t dance.” Karkat’s voice catches your attention again and you observe how he stands stock still, arms crossed across his chest as he flicks his gaze about the people moving around him.

“Heh. You mean you _can’t_ dance, don’t you?”

“No! I meant what I damned said, I do-“ He’s silenced by you stepping forward, one arm slipping around his hip so that he can’t move backwards when you bump your body up against his.

“I’ll show you how.” You say, leaning right in close to speak into his ear so that he can hear you over the music and you can feel him tense slightly against you. But he doesn’t argue anymore, and you grasp at his other hip with your free hand.

Guiding his hips, you sway him from side to side gently, bumping one of your legs against his so that they part and you can slip in closer to him, your two bodies fitting together easily. And he hesitates beneath your hands, reluctant to move as he looks around nervously. So you move one hand from his hip, pushing it into his hair to hold his head in place, forcing him to keep looking at you instead. You didn’t want him looking at anyone but you.

And it must work because he starts to move without your guidance, in jerky, forced movements that makes you laugh into his ear. But he grabs at the front of your shirt roughly to yank your chest up against his, his eyes sending all the hate he couldn’t verbalise in the loud room. So you control your laughter, instead choosing to roll your hips up against his, encouraging him to move in the same way.

Except you start to regret making that move, because when he finally gets the hang of it, the smile is wiped clean from your face from the sensation. Because he’s rubbing right up against you, his hands pressing against your stomach before slipping around your waist to grasp at your shirt on your back.

You can barely even acknowledge the music anymore to keep in time with the beat, aware of how Karkat must feel the quickening of your breath by his ear. And you tip your hips forward to create even more of the contact you were starting to need more than want exactly. The two of you weren’t just dancing anymore. You were full on grinding up against each other and you realize that he’s making no attempt to put a stop to it.

You pull your face back in order to look at him better, and you know it’s difficult to see in the dark with your shades on. But you can still see the way his white hair is tinted with the color of the club lights before they move on out into the crowds. And his jaw is set tense, teeth gritted from determination and frustration as his eyes stare up at his own reflection in your shades.

The music slows slightly and the club is suddenly lit with strobe lighting, sending everything into an almost flipbook illusion as people’s movements become disconnected and almost slow motion in the flashes of white light. And it’s at this point that you can see him moving up towards you, each flash bringing him closer until his lips are on yours, heated and needy.

You can’t prevent the moan that pushes out of your mouth and into his, your grip tightening on his hair to keep his lips close. And your hand forces his hips desperately against your own, you no longer have the willpower to stop your blood from rushing south and it’s pretty damn obvious by this point.

It isn’t helping that he’s still rolling his hips up against yours, his kiss turning into small teasing pecks that have you leaning in for more each time his lips leave yours. It’s almost more than you can bear, taking one of the breaks in his kiss to lean in close to his ear again.

“Come home with me.” You say, the hand on his hip pushing up beneath his shirt to drift across the bare, heated skin of his back so that he arches it, pushing his stomach against your own.

“Is that a question or an order?” His voice is low and strained, his fingernails digging into your back through you shirt as though in warning.

“Depends on your answer.” 

“Cocky bastard.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” You smirk, jerking your hips forward against his so that his whole body jolts in surprise. His breath comes out stuttered before he falls into silence, the sound of the bass seeming to shake your very bones against him.

And it takes a second for you to notice that the two of you had stopped moving. You were both just stood there in the middle of the busy crowds, grasping and pushing against each other desperately.

“Yes.” He says, so quiet that you aren’t sure whether you simply imagined it.

“Yes?”

“Yes, I’ll fucking come home with you, ok?” He growls and you break out into a grin which has him telling you to ‘shut up’ before you’ve even had a chance to say anything.

You drop your grip from around him, stepping back to rush out into the crowds as you only remember to grab his hand at the last minute, yanking him after you. Your hastiness causes you to trip when dodging around a group of people, only just catching your balance in time. And you can hear him start laughing behind you, the sound only just reaching you over the music and causing you to swing round to look at him.

His cheeks are flushed from the heat of the club, lips parted in a grin which creased his eyes and revealed a set of slightly crooked teeth. It was like an entirely different Karkat, setting your chest on fire and leaving you without the heart to curse him for laughing at you. He was fucking adorable when he smiled.

So you just squeezed his fingers lightly, smiling back at him as you feel your stomach flip, partly wishing that you could stop loving him so much. Knowing that if you kept it up then you would only get hurt.

But you didn’t care.

You had him following you home with his hand in yours and he was smiling almost as much as you were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Karkat can't dance.  
> This chapter seems too short.  
> I'm sorry.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I'm gonna have the next chapter up real soon. And by real soon, I literally mean like tomorrow because it's practically written, I just cannot be bothered to format it tonight. So just count this one as the lead up to that one I guess.
> 
> Can I also say a massive thank you to everyone who has commented or left kudos. I love you.

He’s warm to touch, sweet to kiss, and when you pin him back against the wall of your apartment block, his shoulder’s push back against your hands in retaliation. He won’t put up with you trying to shove him around anymore. And he’s desperate to show it; breaking free of your grasp and taking hold of the back of your neck.

You smirk; refuse to lean down so that he gives a growl of annoyance, pushing onto his tiptoes in order to make your lips meet. And then it begins all over again, each kiss as passionate as the one before it until you can hardly imagine a time when you won’t feel his lips moving against your own.

In fact, you can hardly remember how you had even made it home, your fingers fumbling for your bro’s keys in your pocket as you take the stairs two at a time.

“Slow the fuck down!” He pants from behind you and you laugh.

“Want me to carry you?”

“I’m not a baby.”

“Then stop acting like one and climb the stairs.”

“ _Seven floors_ of fucking stairs…”

You slow, rolling your eyes behind your shades. You eventually stop right in front of him, stooping low with your hands held ready behind you.

“Get on my back.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Nope. You’re too slow and too whiny. Get on.” You send him an encouraging gesture with your hands, hear him let out an unimpressed sigh. And then he’s grasping at your shoulders, jumping onto your back as you are sure to quickly catch him under his thighs, hoisting him upwards with a small grunt.

“Shit, you’re heavier than you look.”

“Do you want to be fucking pummelled, Strider? This is embarrassing enough as it is.” His voice comes right by your ear and you smirk, continuing up the stairs at a slightly slower (but still faster than Karkat) pace.

Half way up he moves to wrap his arms around your neck instead, his legs tightening around your waist so that you can feel he warmth against your back. He’s silent for once, but you can hear him breathing by your ear, even _feel_ the hot exhales he makes against your neck.

You’re so glad he’s coming home with you.

“Last stop on the Strider express, choo choo motherfucker, everybody off.” You say as you reach your floor, dropping your grip on him as he falls from your back with a yelp.

“I demand a refund.”

“You never fucking paid in the first place.” You unlock your door and push it open before turning back to him with a smile. He surprises you by smiling back and you quickly catch it in a kiss before it can disappear, sliding your hands around his waist to pull him with you into your apartment.

It’s at this point that you wish you had cleaned the place up a little. The floor was strewn with swords and empty pizza boxes and you can see Karkat give a stray smuppet a curious glance when you break the kiss.

“What-“

“Don’t ask.” You kick the smuppet to the side, interlacing fingers with his, realizing that he’s shaking slightly.

And he’s chewing at his lip again, nervous. But you barely notice as you pull him into your bedroom, hastiness preventing you from turning on the light. It’s not as if you need it though, your hands unable to stay still as they feel out his outline, touch bumping up against his chin and giving you the guidance you need in order to lean in for a kiss.

There is something different about it compared to the previous ones. It’s intense and quiet, uninterrupted by one of you making a joke or insult. It seems too serious. But then again, this was the closest to being serious as the two of you had ever been.

Just you and him. Alone in your dark room, your hands wrapping around his neck as you step back. You stumble as your foot tangles in the jeans you had abandoned earlier, your grasp on him bringing him stumbling with you. And your foreheads clash together, the kiss breaking into a hiss of pain on Karkat’s side.

It wasn’t exactly the smoothest way you’d imagined this going, but you are grateful at least that the strange tension between you had been broken.

He mutters something intelligible and you laugh, tipping backwards and twisting at the same time so that he’s pulled quickly around you. Falling back onto your bed, you land on top of him heavily with a small huff.

“And you complained about _me_ being heavy,” he says breathlessly.

“Mmm-hmm…” You manage to mumble out against his skin as you start to trail kisses along his neck, feeling him wriggle beneath your body. He won’t damn stay still so you bear your teeth to bite lightly against the skin of his neck, sucking harshly. And he freezes, breath catching.

“D-Dave…”

Your hands pull at the bottom of his shirt, drifting across the bare skin of his stomach so that he squirms against your touch.

“Dave.”

Heart pounding, hands shaking with need, you grasp at the button on his jeans. You kiss along his jaw, your own hips tipping forward against his thigh. And you unfasten his jeans, reaching down…

“DAVE!” 

The punch catches you more than a little off guard. His fist hits your cheek hard and you roll off of him, tipping over the side of the bed as you hit the floor heavily. Your head spins from the withdrawal and confusion and you wince at the dull throb of pain along your cheekbone from his fist. That was going to bruise.

“Shit. Sorry,” You see him quickly sit up, a dark figure looking down at you, “You just need to fucking listen to me when I’m trying to get your damn attention.”

”Yeah, well, you have it now…” You mumble, rubbing your lower back where it had hit the floor, “What was that for?”

“I…uh.” He pauses and you pull at your shades so that you are able to see his facial expression in the darkness. He’s wide eyed, pulling at his lip guiltily before he reaches a hand down in your direction.

Accepting the hand, you pull yourself back up onto the bed, sitting beside him with raised eyebrows.

“Well?”

“I… I guess I’m not quite as… ready for this as I thought.” He looks away, pulling his knees up to his chest so that he can rest his chin on top of them.

“Oh.”

It’s difficult to hide the disappointment in your tone, despite the fact that you instantly feel like a dick for it afterwards.

Of course he wasn’t ready. All this had been down to you and your impatience, your need for him. You should have seen it sooner. Hell, it had only been the week before that you had taken his first kiss from him. It was stupid of you to presume that the unusual nature of the relationship between the two of you would allow you to take things so fast.

Even if you did want it so badly.

“Fuck… I’m sorry. You should have punched me sooner.” You breathe out and you catch the white of his teeth as he smiles.

“I was tempted.” He mumbles and you feel him reach out, wrapping his arms around your middle in a hug that soothes your thoughts for a moment. And you tip backwards so that you hit the bed with a sigh, your own arms circling him so that you lie facing each other. Holding each other.

It wasn’t quite the way you had anticipated spending the night. But it was welcome all the same.

“It’s probably for the best anyway, I don’t think you could have handled all this Strider in bed…” You breathe out a low chuckle, the exhaustion of the day settling in.

“You fucking wish,” he growls, playfully hitting you in your side.

“Hey, I’m a DJ. I know how to keep a beat.” You smirk, pushing forward to land a light kiss on the tip of his nose.

“You’re so full of it. That wasn’t even original, dipshit.”

“It was iro-“

“NO. Nope. You shut that trap of yours right now,” He pushes a hand against your mouth, which only results in you kissing at his fingers. He frowns in disapproval, “Half the shit you spout barely makes any sense anyway.”

“You love it.” Your words come muffled from behind his fingers and he lowers them, yawning in reply.

And you shuffle closer to him on the bed, feeling your body ache from bruising and simple exhaustion. He’s warm in your arms though, your own personal heater tempting your eyes closed as your breathing comes slow and heavy. Sleep is close despite your best attempts to fight it off. Karkat’s voice only barely brings you back to consciousness, his words coming as a whisper in the dark.

“Did you really mean it? When you said you loved me?”

“Of course, dumbass.”

“Hm.” 

And you feel him tip his forehead against yours before you finally drift off into sleep.

...

You don’t wake even when Bro returns home, opening your door and spilling light onto the two entwined figures on your bed. You’re both still fully clothed, arms clumsily strewn across each other, deep in sleep.

You don’t see the way he pauses, lips pulling up into a genuine smile before he closes the door again and moves away. He laughs quietly to himself.

“Fucking knew it.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised.
> 
> Cover up the kiddies eyes for this one because things get NSFW.

“Dave.”

Your eyes peek open, startling slightly at Karkat’s close proximity before they tiredly fall closed again.

“Strider!”

He flicks a finger between your eyes and you grumble a response, reluctantly opening your eyes again.

The room is still dark, but you can see the beginning of a sunrise out your window, leading you to groggily judge it must only be around 5 or 6am. Not cool.

“How long have you been awake?” You half drawl, reaching up to rub at your eyes in an attempt to keep them open.

“About 2 hours now.”

“Jesus _fuck_ , Karkat…” You frown at him and he frowns right back, “What the fuck have you been do- Oh. Wait. Have you been watching me sleep?”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you manage a lazy smirk at the uncomfortable way he shifts about.

“I’ve been doing other things too! I’m not a fucking creep.”

“Like what?”

“Thinking.”

You let out a heavy sigh, adjusting the pillow beneath your head as you make yourself more comfortable.

“Are you telling me that you woke me up at this ungodly hour to tell me that you’ve been thinking? Because last time I checked, that’s a basic human function.”

“Shut up. Listen to me.”

“Uh- huh…” And your eyes are slipping closed again, breathing heavy.

“Wake the fuck up!” He growls and next thing you know, there is a heated pressure on your lips, followed by a pull on your lower lip as he bites you awake.

You make a startled noise, suddenly very awake as you reflexively push up away from the bed and into his kiss. His hand reaches around to the back of your head to grab at your hair, pulling your lips back away from his. You flash him a glare as you realize the extent of control he has over you. You fall right into his hands with every little kiss and he’s only just started to take advantage of it.

“Now listen, Strider,” He keeps his face close, eyes alight in the half light, “I’ve been thinking. About us. And I figured that earlier I may have panicked a bit, lashed out when really… I do want it. I fucking want it.”

He’s fierce in expression, almost daring you to make a joke of it as he tightens the grip on your hair painfully.

“Want what?” You murmur, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it all the same.

“You.”

And it’s all the encouragement you need in order to push forward. There is a painful second where your hair pulls in his grip before he adds to your advancement, pushing your head forward to create the desperate clumsy contact.

His lips match your own enthusiasm this time as you feel all previous sleepiness suddenly overcome with a rush of adrenaline and need. But it would seem that you are outmatched in impatience for once, feeling Karkat’s hands grab at the bottom of your shirt to pull it up. The kiss is broken as he yanks it over your head, his touch roaming across the bruised and scarred skin, applying pressure against your bandages so that you wince.

But then he’s leaning down to kiss at your collarbones, pressing his lips against the hollow above the bone before extending his tongue to lick up the pale skin towards your neck. And you groan appreciatively, because wow it was _way_ too early in the morning for that kind of contact and you could practically feel your blood rush south.

Your hands fumble for his own shirt and he lets you pull it off, his hair emerging messy on the other side. And it’s so god damn adorable, you just _need_ to have him.

So you grab at his shoulders, pushing him flat back against the bed as you roll across to straddle his hips. He starts to push himself up towards you, aiming to kiss you but you firmly pin him back again, hearing him growl at the denial.

But you just needed to take a second to look at him first. Admire the pale unmarked skin of his chest and stomach, rising and falling with his quick breathing. Well, mostly unmarked, as you notice the forming red patches forming on his neck left behind by your lips earlier. You want to leave more marks on him.

And he blinks up at you from beneath a creased brow, his eyelashes catching on the tips of his ashen hair. His eyes look almost dark brown in the light and you wonder if he can see the red in your own. His lips are pulled down, desperate to kiss you, and you feel him wriggle beneath you. This only brings attention to the fact that he was lying right beneath you, between your legs, _between your legs._

_Oh fuck._

If you weren’t fully hard before, then you definitely are now. You don’t hold back for any longer, bringing your lips crashing messily into his, feeling his hands push into your hair. Hips pushing forward, the pressure of your crotch pushing against his elicits a small moan from his lips that you catch with your tongue.

It’s everything you’d ever wanted, yet it’s also not enough. So you move to quickly grasp at his jeans, finding them pleasantly still unbuttoned from your earlier attempts, making it easier to pull them down. You shift on top of him, feeling him kick out in order to banish the jeans to the bottom of the bed. 

His hands drift down to the fastening on your own jeans but he halts as you grasp at him through his boxers. You stroke your hand up and down his length through the thin material and he grows harder from your touch, his gasp and fingernails pushing against your skin making you smirk.

When he continues, his movements are faster, rougher, as he unfastens your jeans, not even waiting for them to be fully pulled down before he plunges his hand beneath the waistband of your underwear to palm your bare erection. And it’s his turn to smirk triumphantly because you let out a needy noise, hips jerking forward against his hand.

Your lips find his again as you focus your hands on removing your jeans and boxers, kicking them aside so that you’re exposed, straddling him with only one layer of dark material between the two of you. Slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers, you sense him tense beneath you and you pull your lips away from his. 

You press a light kiss to the flush on his cheeks, moving a hand to comfortingly brush against the hair on his forehead until he relaxes once more. And you continue in pulling away his underwear, fingers brushing against the skin of his inner thigh before they wrap once more around his member. You push your thumb gently against his tip, feeling the warm stickiness of precum.

“ _Fuck_ …” He’s breathing heavily, his hips tipping up away from the bed in order to create some friction against your palm. And you need some friction too, so you dip your hips against his, adjusting your hand to grasp your own erection up against his, the contact of bare skin against bare skin causing your eyes to slip closed.

His own hand also wraps around the two of you, his fingers interlacing with your own as he pushes hot, wet kisses along your neck. 

“You’re perfect…” You are surprised you can even find it in yourself to talk, and as your hips thrust forward, and your length rubs against his own and the encircling hands, the only noise you manage to make is a strangled moan.

The friction feels like it’s all you’ve ever needed and you thrust forward again, picking up a pace as Karkat also jerks his hips desperately upwards. He grasps his other hand around your throat, his fingers squeezing gently, possessively; before he pulls you down to kiss him. And it feels like your whole body is on fire, nothing else in your head except the tongue pushing past your lips and the jolts of pleasure racking you with every thrust forward.

He sucks at your tongue, filling your head with ideas that won’t subside. You want… 

Moving quickly, he barely registers that your hand has moved away, your whole body shuffling downwards so that you land sweet, sucking kisses on his stomach. He lies still, taking a moment to figure out what it was you were doing before it clicks and he flushes in anticipation.

You dip lower, your hand pushing his out of the way to grasp at his base tightly. And you glance up at him with a smirk before you push your tongue along his slit slowly, wrapping your lips around him so that an audible moan escapes his lips. And his hands grasp at the bedsheets tightly, you can tell he’s trying his hardest not to push up into your mouth.

But you’re in no mood to tease anyway, sucking hard at his tip before slipping your lips down along his erection until they hit the top of your hand. When you pull upwards again, your tongue laps against his skin, pulling curses and noises from Karkat that only encourage you to continue.

As you start to move faster, incorporating your hand as you lick and suck at him, he pushes one hand into your hair, guiding your head up and down with a tight grip on your hair. And it’s so fucking hot that you feel the need to reach down and grasp at your own needy erection, stroking it as you worked so that Karkat’s moans were soon joined by your own.

It’s not long before he’s thrusting up into your mouth, growing close to a finish. You gag a little as he hits the back of your throat, but you’re sure to keep your tongue licking against him, and as you tighten your hand on him, he gives out a stuttered gasp. Your name pushes past his lips and he’s filling your mouth, salty and sticky and so much of it you almost choke before you remember to swallow. 

The aftertaste isn’t pleasant, but you are sure to swallow every last drop of him before releasing him from your mouth. And his head has tipped back against the bed, his grip on your hair loosened as he rides out his orgasm in heavy pants.

He’s so fucking beautiful to watch and to know that it was you who made him this way only heightens your arousal. Still stroking at your own erection, you move back upwards again to press your lips to his, trying to show your own neediness through the haze of his comedown. 

He hums against your lips, pushing back against you so that the two of you roll on the bed, switching positions. And you didn’t think you could possibly get any more turned on, but to see him sitting on top of you, his hand reaching to take over from your own on your hard on… It was more than you could bear. 

“Please…” 

The word pushes past your lips before you can stop it and he smirks, enjoying his position of power as he gives your erection a few hard pumps, causing your back to arch up in pleasure.

“You’re pretty when you’re turned on, Strider.” He comments, his free hand brushing against your tinted cheeks and parted lips. He lingers them on your lips a few seconds before pulling them away entirely, instead shifting so that he can push your legs apart, settling between them.

He kisses up your thigh, pausing as he comes level with your crotch. And you can tell he’s unsure of what to do exactly, his mouth moving to wrap around you before you grab at his hair, halting him.

“Watch your teeth.” You say breathlessly and he frowns, not happy at being instructed but making sure to cover his teeth with his lips all the same.

And then he’s surrounding you with his mouth, his tongue flicking against you timidly as he sucks upwards. It’s way better than you had ever fantasized it being. And a small, needy whimper escapes before you remember to start breathing again.

He focuses his attention on your tip, sliding his hand up and down your shaft as he grows more confident with his actions. He’s reducing you to nothing more than a puddle of hormones and needy noises. You won’t last much longer after you had been waiting for this for so long.

And sure enough, with one long, slow lick along the rim of your head, you can feel yourself spilling into his mouth with a raspy moan. Your whole body tenses, toes curling on either side of him as you feel him pull back, surprised. But his hand keeps moving, and you finish onto his face. The orgasm has waves of pleasure coursing through your body and for a few seconds, your head is filled simply with bright white and images of him. Just flashes of him. And he was so perfect.

Remembering to breathe, you pull in a deep breath, pushing it slowly past your lips in a sigh. Your eyes close for a moment so that you can just savour the contented feeling. It was as though anything could happen to you and you wouldn’t care, you’d still remain in this state of satisfaction.

The bed sinks beside you and you peak an eye open to look across at Karkat. He wipes at the cum on his face but you stop him, grasping his hand and leaning forward to lick at the salty fluid until he tips his head in order to bring his lips to yours. And his lips taste like you, leaving you fairly sure that you taste like him. 

The kiss breaks and you watch him, his face pressing up against the mattress. And he has a pink tint to his cheeks, a smile on his lips that lets you know that he’s feeling the same thing as you do.

“I told you I was phenomenal in bed.” You smirk and he bursts into a fit of laughter that seems to set your heart on fire. Fucking adorable.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably good.”

“Stop it.”

“Stop being so amazingly awesome? I can’t, I’m afraid.”

“Stop being so full of yourself, you asshole.”

“I ain’t promising anything.” 

You sit up, knowing that sleep wasn’t something you were going to achieve anymore, despite how tired you had been earlier. Retrieving your boxers, you pull them on, climbing up from the bed as Karkat sits up to watch you, scratching at his hair which had achieved a whole new level of messy. He deserved some kind of award for best sex hair, you think to yourself with a small laugh, bending to pull the cigarettes from your bag.

“You joining me?” You ask, raising your eyebrows as you saunter over to your window, pulling it up and seating yourself on the window ledge. 

“I don’t smoke. That shit will kill you faster than a bat out of hell.”

“But I’m lonely.”

And you send him a mock pout, patting the window ledge beside you before you pull a cigarette from the packet using your teeth. He sighs, rolling his eyes before grasping at his own underwear and moving to join you.

You light up, watching him over the flame and taking in how small and thin he looked sat opposite you on the window ledge, his legs curling up against his bare chest. You needed to believe that he was actually there so you pull your own legs up, resting your feet over the top of his. Feeling him warm beneath your soles was comforting, proof that he was really there.

You blow a plume of smoke out of the open window, the toxins adding to the easiness of your attitude. It’s only just passed sunrise and there was a slightly surreal yellowish glow to the city down below your apartment window, a cool breeze blowing in and making you shiver.

When you look back across at him, he’s staring out the window at the view below, pale skin and hair tinted in the yellow light. He was so beautiful. You needed him all to yourself.

“Be mine.”

His head snaps in your direction, lips pulled down in confusion.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I want you. I don’t want anyone else having you, the selfish bastard that I am,” You take a draw, pausing to speak before you exhale again, “I need to know that you are mine.”

“What? Like _boyfriends?_ ” His face contorts and you shrug your shoulders.

“Call it whatever you want. I just…” You trail off, looking away from him as you find yourself unable to finish.

_I just want you to never leave me._

_Please don’t leave me._

There is silence between you for a few painful moments, the only noise coming from a city starting to wake outside your window, and you breathing out another trail of smoke. When he speaks, his voice is timid, his feet twitching beneath yours.

“I guess I _would_ like to do this again… And being with you, kissing you and stuff. It’s getting a lot easier to deal with. A little less of a fucking tosspot of salad going on up here,” He taps the side of his head, “You know, it seems a little less mixed up with hate than what I’d started out with.”

“Are you saying yes? Will you be mine?”

You suck in a particularly large amount of smoke, feeling it sting the back of your throat, threatening to make your eyes water as you hold it there. He’s staring you down, face serious before he tips his head forward to rest his chin on top of his knees. You release, tipping your head back so that the smoke circles up to your ceiling instead of escaping outside. And when you glance back at him, he has this smile on his lips that you can’t help but return.

“I think I always was yours, in some way or another.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. Wow, talk about writers block. What a pain in the rump.
> 
> Note to self: Finding yourself listening to She Will Be Loved by Maroon 5 on repeat will make your writing turn a little sad. Sigh.

“Was that your boyfriend I heard leaving?”

Bro looks up from the eggs he was frying and you frown at the pink frilly apron he wore. Sometimes he took irony a little too far.

“Uh, that was, um-“

“Karkat, right?”

You narrow your eyes at him and he laughs, flipping the eggs and cutting off your questions before they’ve even left your lips.

“Dave, I think the whole damn neighbourhood could hear you moaning his name last night.”

Cheeks flaring up, you can barely find any words to come back with a sarcastic reply because, _jesus, had you really been that loud?_

“Shut up, Bro.”

He smirks at the weak comeback and you send him a frown, sitting yourself down at the kitchen table, running fingers through your hair.

“Walked in on the two of you spooning the shit out of each other last night. Was half expecting to not have to hear all that moaning that came later.”

“ _Je-sus_ Bro!” You let your head fall heavily forward and bang against the table, mortified. Why couldn’t he just shut up? You wanted to smack that shit eating grin right off his damn face. But then again, Bro never did know when to stop when it came to teasing you.

“He’s a cutie, if not a little rough around the edges.”

Your head snaps up as you are finally thrown some ammunition in this battle, a small smirk pulling at your lips as you raise your eyebrows at him.

“I don’t see how you dare judge who I like when you’ve been crushing on John’s dad for god knows how many years.”

He falls silent and, although you can’t see his eyes, you can damn well tell that they are narrowed in your direction. If it wasn’t for the pink frilly apron he still wore and the fact that he was currently brandishing nothing scarier than a spatula, then you might have been intimidated.

“The thing going on between Daddy Egbert and I is strictly platonic.”

“Jesus fuck, Bro. You just called the guy Daddy Egbert. Not only do I now know that the two of you are fucking, but I also know way more about your bedroom kinks than I ever wanted to hear.”

He sets a plate of fried eggs and toast in front of you, smacking you around the back of your head with the spatula and knocking the grimace from your face before he sits himself down.

“You are changing the topic of conversation, you little shit.”

“ _My best friend’s dad._ ”

“Dave.”

“Bro.”

When you look up from your food he has fixed his stare on you, lips pushed into a determined line. He tips his hat up a little before he tents his fingers, leaning forward across the table. And you swallow down the food in your mouth, but it’s thick and stuck in your throat, making your breathing heavy and panicked.

You don’t deal well with these kinds of situations.

“Do you really like this guy?”

You sniff, eyes dropping down to your plate as you watch your fingers chase an egg yolk around the plate with a piece of toast. When your mouth opens to say something, the words are stuck, but you figure that all words that are truthful and said without a hint of sarcasm are the ones you find the most difficult. Especially when said to Bro.

“I-It’s not a matter of liking him. It’s more of a hating everything about him kind of thing. I hate all that he is… but if I didn’t have that hate, I would be nothing,” You glance up at Bro, expecting him to laugh at your ridiculous explanation of it, but his face is calm and patient, waiting for you to go on, “I’m in love with him. And I hate him for making me feel that.”

Your fingers have been repetitively tapping out a quick rhythm against the tabletop and you are quick to still them as you notice it, instead trying to occupy yourself by shoving another piece of toast in your mouth. It feels too dry and your heart seems to be beating too fast and _dammit Bro please say something, don’t just stare like that._

He clears his throat and you freeze as you watch him get up from his seat, moving around the table. His fist clenches up and your eyes turn wide behind the shades, flinching backwards as he brings it forward.

But he stops, fist held still in front of you and this massive fucking smirk on his face at your flinching. The smug bastard was giving you a bro fist.

“Congrats on the sex, little bro.”

Releasing a heavy sigh of relief, you bring your own fist up against his as he laughs; patting you on the back with enough force to bring back up the toast you had just swallowed. You flash him a glare and a middle finger but he’s already moving out of the room, whistling a tune to himself.

 _What a dickbag_ , you can’t help but think in his direction, but at the same time, a smile was fighting its way to your lips.

As much of a dickbag as he was, your Bro sure did have a way of making you feel a thousand times fucking better about shit like this. He had a knack of putting things that seem massive and scary back into proportion for you again.

“Don’t go losing cute ones like that,” you hear him shout from the next room and you bite back your grin, “And go the fuck to school!”

…

The next 2 weeks pass faster than you ever want them to. And you can’t help but think time went all funny and warped when you spent it with him. Like each moment lasted an hour but each hour passed so quickly you were left wondering at what point it had turned 3am and you were still lay awake with him lying beside you.

Your days were spent in secrecy and fuelled by the danger of having to hide what you had between you from everyone. So far, the only person who knew about the two of you was Rose, but then again, she had guessed right and you always found it difficult to lie to her.

Even John remained ignorant out of fear that his big mouth would spread the news like wildfire. And neither of you wanted school to be any more difficult than it already was.

You were just grateful that the football team ignored you now instead of choosing to beat your ass every day. They weren’t so kind to Karkat though. And it broke your heart that the pair of you together were a mess of bruises and cuts against pale white skin.

He was worth it though. So fucking worth it. And your secrecy had only inspired the two of you to become more inventive with your signs of affection at school.

…

_You press his back against the lockers, your thigh pushed up between his legs applying only the slightest amount of pressure so that he growls in frustration. His eyes dart up and down the empty school corridor, wary and pale from fear of being caught. You decide you need to add a little color to the cheeks and you nip and lick at the skin. It works spectacularly because his mouth mumbles at you to ‘fucking stop before we get caught’ and his cheeks are flared up like the fourth of July._

_The two of you had only left your classes for a nicely timed ‘bathroom break’. The rest of the school sat in classrooms only feet away from the two of you. He’s like the forbidden fruit and he is delicious on your lips, his hands fisting against your shirt to push you back. But you close the distance between the two of you again with a laugh and he’s caught in your kiss. He has to bite you hard enough to bleed in order to make you stop and let him go back to class._

_…_

_Science class. The dead frog laid out in front of the two of you has you waving the scalpel about excitedly, telling him about one just like it you have pickled in a jar back at home. As you make the first incision, blood spurting upwards, Karkat’s eyes roll back into his head and he collapses on the lab floor._

_You laugh at first but, as other students gather around, you see a chance you wouldn’t normally have, pushing them back as you announce that he needs mouth to mouth immediately. It’s almost enough to make you laugh that they actually believe your bullshit, letting you kneel down beside him and press your lips to his._

_By the time a teacher has arrived, your tongue was flicking Karkat awake again and you almost receive a nasty headbutt as he shoots upwards in furious shock. Later that night he is sure to get back at you by forcing a kiss on you whilst in front of Bro._

_Bro had only given you a thumbs up, much to your mortification._

…

As fun as frustrating him at school was though, your favourite times with him had always been when the two of you didn’t have to hide how you felt about each other.

Like when he had spent the night and tried out your turntables, growing gradually more and more frustrated with the sliders and buttons. He’d thrown curse words at the discs, grumbling incoherently as you had stood close behind him and guided his hands with your own. Palms flat against the back of his shaking hands, you’d interlocked your fingers with his and used your grip to move his hands to increase the sound of the bass. Fuelled by the beat and the close proximity, your lips were soon against his neck, your teeth nipping at his ear.

And soon the grumbling was turned into heavy pants, the cursing only made in your name as his hands abandoned all hope of learning to become a DJ and instead made do with exploring the one already present.

You couldn’t imagine a time when he wouldn’t be there. You wanted to spend every night listening to him complain and rant whilst you smoked out of your bedroom window. You wanted to feel him fall asleep sprawled across your bare chest whilst you watched the terrible rom-com he had brought with him over and over. You wanted thousands of angry, hate fuelled fights that left you covered in bitemarks and scratches before your passion was instead focused on removing each other’s clothes.

No, you didn’t want all this. You _needed_ it.

And you know that he still needs you too if the past two weeks of memories were anything to go by.

He takes your hand one day when you walk him home after school, making sure no one was around to see him do it. He doesn’t make a point of it, still ranting about something Jade had said to him at lunch, but you barely listen to the actual words, more focused on the raspy lilts of his voice as he speaks.

By the time the two of you make it to his apartment block, he seems to have run out of steam. He glances your way, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“You’ve been a fuckload of quiet today. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You shrug but he isn’t buying your bullshit.

“Is your bro gone again?”

“Heh. No, he’s still accounted for last time I checked.” 

As great as Bro could be, at times he could be really unreliable. Disappearing without explanation, leaving you wondering what it was you did wrong this time to make him leave; only to return days or weeks later and act as though he’d never been gone at all. When you had tried to explain to Karkat that it happened all the time, you had been more than a little frustrated over the fact that you couldn’t even explain it yourself. Not really.

“If it isn’t your bro, then what is it?” He looks up, his free hand pushing back white bangs as the breeze blows them into his eyes. Your hand squeezes his.

Your mouth falls open as if to say something, eyes hitting his through the barrier of glass before you give a smile, shrugging your shoulders. You wanted to ask if maybe you could tell some other people about the relationship. Maybe just your friends so that things could get a bit easier. But as much as you know he would deny it, it was painfully clear how terrified Karkat still was of the whole situation.

Now was just not the time.

“It’s nothing. Really.”

And his mouth falls open to argue but you smack a hand over it, muffling his words and causing him to bite down against your fingers. 

But you release his hand to instead wrap your arm around his body, pulling him backwards through the door and into the small stairway of his apartment block. The amount that he struggles would almost make this look like a kidnapping attempt if there was anyone around to see, and when you laugh, the sound echoes up the empty stairwell.

“LET M’ GO YOU SUPI’ FU’ER!” he cried from behind your hand and you finally comply, stepping back away from him and leaning back against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, one leg bent as you push a foot against the chipped paintwork, "You’re an asshole. Next time you put your hand near my mouth like that again I will bite your fucking fingers off, and then good luck jerking off to your god damn reflection after that.”

“I only need one set of fingers to jerk off.”

“Damn right you do, couldn’t fucking fit two sets.”

“Now we both know that’s a lie,” you smirk and he blushes. Leaning forward a little, you slip two fingers into the front two belt loops on his jeans, pulling him closer by his hips, “Besides, I don’t need to jerk off at all anymore. Never feels as good as you do.”

He seems as though he’s going to say something sarcastic in return but your lips against his jawline have him stuttering into a moan of appreciation instead. His hands feel out the curve of your hipbones through your shirt, sliding up your sides and leaving light tickling touches by your ribcage.

He presses chapped lips up against your own, your lower lip caught in the wet heat of his mouth before his teeth drag against the flesh and you breath in sharply. Hands slipping around to grab indulgently at his ass, your senses are filled with him, blocking out the sound of the door to stairway opening.

“Karkat?”

The voice is low and angry, unfamiliar to you but enough to have Karkat jumping back away from you as though your lips had sent a jolt of electricity through him. His eyes are wide, quickly turning to face the dark haired man stood in the doorway.

The shocked look on his face is quickly transforming into something more unpleasant, his dark brow pulling down and his lips curling in a frown that looks remarkably similar, if not a bit more world worn than the 17 year old stood in front of him.

“D-dad! I thought you were at w-work…” Karkat is facing away from you, but the smallness of his voice and the way his shoulders have slumped inwards makes your stomach twist unpleasantly.

Karkat’s dad took a step forward, skinny and tall with messy black hair that makes you wonder if Karkat would be the same if it wasn’t for that one little gene passed down. 

“What the fuck is this?!” He practically spits the words and you can see Karkat shrivel back away from him.

Okay, so wow, this guy was angrier than even Karkat was at times. Maybe you just needed to help him get over the shock of having seen his son kiss another guy.

You take a step towards him, holding out a slightly nervous hand in his direction and you don’t miss Karkat’s head snapping in your direction, red eyes wide in terror.

“Hey, I’m Da-“ 

“Shut the fuck up, you fucking faggot.”

The harsh words have you freezing, a shudder running down your spine as your mouth falls open. Karkat takes a step forward, his hands coming up as though to try and calm his dad down.

“Dad, please, it isn’t what it looks li-“ Karkat is cut off as his dad lands a hard slap across his cheek, the sound of skin hitting skin ringing out between the three of you. 

“Shut up and get upstairs. I’ll deal with you later.”

And all of a sudden you are furious.

Your hands curl into fists, mouth pulling down into a snarl as you let out a small growl, launching yourself at the older man. Your fist swings forward but there is a flash of white and black and Karkat’s hands were on your shoulders, stopping you.

You struggle in his grip but you have never felt him be so strong and he easily shoves you in the direction of the door. His cheek is fire engine red and you can see the tears in his eyes. He is babbling pleading words at you but you barely hear them. All you can feel is red. So much red as your gaze snaps between father and son, your limbs wriggling and desperate to break free.

“Please, please, Dave. LEAVE,” But you can’t just leave him here with that man and when he was looking so scared, pushing back against him. His voice lowers, careful by your ear, “If you love me, then leave.”

And you pause. And his eyes are pleading you so you barely hear the other voice.

“Get out before I call the fucking cops on you for trespassing,” his dad snaps at you and then there are two sets of hands grabbing at you, pushing you out through the door.

You stumble to get your balance, head snapping around to see Karkat in the gap of the closing door, eyes shining as his dad grasps his arm to tug him away.

His words bounce around in your head.

_If you love me, then leave._

And you are frozen, breathing stopped and heart pounding from anger and adrenaline coursing through your veins. And all you can do is stand and watch as the door clicks shut and locks you out.

And all you can think is that you love him so much it hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished writing the end part of this and then when I read over the other parts of the chapter about them being kawaii together I made myself a little sad. 
> 
> I don't know why I even do this to myself.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here. Have some really pretty music that I listened to whilst writing this and that will promise to punch you right in the feelings. www.youtube.com/watch?v=iWIZ9P2o4yw

The last time you saw Karkat Vantas was a week ago; when the door had shut you out and shut him in. And seven days may not seem like an awful long time, but you swear you’ve never felt time pass more slowly.

And you think it’s strange that for every call he never answered and text he never replied to, you only grew more hopeful that the next one he would pick up and you would get to hear his fast, sharp voice snapping at you down the line, or get to read his flustered reply in brash capital letters on your phone screen. But the days passed by and no reply came.

He didn’t turn up at school. 

And as time dragged on without his appearance, your friends started to think that you had disappeared from school as well. Because you spent so much time alone now, scared that if you stuck around with them for too long they would notice how you ate so little at the lunch table and how exhausted you seemed to be.

Because you feel like gravity has suddenly become too much for you, pushing you down into the earth and no amount of cigarettes can make you feel any lighter. 

When Bro disappears again, you can hardly stand being in the apartment anymore. You’re so tired and worn down from people leaving you and you just want them home. You want Karkat back. You want to see him and listen to his voice and feel his heated skin beneath your fingertips so much that it physically hurts. And every little thing you do to distract yourself from him only takes a painful twist back in his direction.

You take a walk and you pass the park where he had pointed out stars to you. You tidy your room and find the shirt he had given you in replacement for your hideous sweater. You walk into town, but there was the cinema where he had fought with you in the back row over popcorn and you had silenced him with a kiss; and there was the nightclub you had pressed so close to him you swear that you shared a heartbeat; and there was the computer shop you had ran from laughing, pulling a cursing Karkat behind you as his ‘sick programming’ crashes half the computers. 

The thing that hurts the most is when you develop the film from your camera to find endless images of him slowly forming in your darkroom. He hated you taking his picture, which meant that the images were all taken in secret and they captured him completely unaware. Just him sitting on your bed, flipping you the finger, or lying curled up asleep beside you. You even have one of him smiling.

You figured that you couldn’t keep up this daze of an existence for much longer without someone noticing, and sure enough, on the eighth day since Karkat disappeared, you find yourself being cornered as you leave class. 

“Dave.”

“Rose.”

She looks unimpressed with you, arms crossed across her chest and one blonde eyebrow cocked as though to almost dare you to try and escape from her again. You couldn’t keep running away from your friends like this.

“Care to inform me exactly what it is that has made you like this? Because you’ve spent the last week walking around like the living dead and we have hardly seen you for a long time,” Her painted lips press together, eyes fiercely locked on you, but you find that you don’t have the energy to stand strong against her.

“Leave it, Lalonde. I’m fine.”

And you can see a flash of hurt in her expression, her shoulders slumping and her mouth twitching downwards. _Dammit, why do you have always have to hurt everyone around you?_

“Dave…” her voice is softer, quieter and you can almost feel your stomach clench in anticipation for what she’s about to say next, “Where is he? Where’s Karkat?”

Eyes squeezing shut behind your shades, you don’t want to hear his name.

You take a step back away from her, but you only hit the corner of the slowly emptying corridor. Students file past the two of you, blissfully unaware of the war raging inside your head and body as you try not to run away or scream. Rose’s eyes are searching out for you, wide and full of concern you really can’t handle right now.

“He’s gone… Rose, he’s gone. And I don’t know where he is and I’m too scared to go back to his apartment. Rose, I’m scared something really bad has happened and it’s all my fault.” The words spill from your lips too fast and your shaking fingers press hard against the wall behind you in order to keep yourself steady. You feel on the edge of a panic attack, scared you were going to lash out.

Your eyes snap open at a gentle touch; cool, slender fingers caressing the side of your face. And, although you never had chance to know your mother before she died, you often imagined that this was what a mother’s comforting touch would feel like.

“It’s okay.”

And she has a small, sad smile on her face and a knowing look in her eye that makes you think that maybe she had a sense that everything was going to be alright in the end. Just not now. 

You have to remind yourself that she was the only one of your friends that knew about Karkat and yourself, and with Bro gone and John and Jade equally clueless about why you’d been such a miserable prick over the last few days, you couldn’t help but feel grateful that she was there. So you step forward, pulling her into a hug, which she returns.

And she’s small and seemingly fragile in your arms, yet it was _you_ who was relying on _her_ for the strength.

“Rose, come with me. I need to go to his apartment… I need to see if he’s okay. It’s been too long. Please.” You breathe into the blonde hair, feeling her pull back from you.

She doesn’t say anything, but she gives a sharp nod, and with a tight grasp on your wrist, she tugs you out towards the school doors.

…

The tall, dirty gray of the apartment block stood towering in front of you, the late afternoon sun bouncing off the glass of the windows and obstructing all view of what lay inside. You aren’t sure you even want to know what is inside.

Out the corner of your eye, you can see Rose look across to you and you look back across to her, your faces a picture of nervous finality before you swallow, looking back up towards the building.

“He’s three floors up, second window across. We can’t get in the door without a key pass. But I’m reluctant to make too much noise in case…”

Your lips push firmly together and you shake your head lightly, glad when Rose doesn’t push you about it but instead she turns to observe the building herself.

“Hm,” She taps a finger against her chin in thought for a moment before glancing you up and down with a small nod, “Your height is an advantage we could certainly use in this situation. If I was to stand on your shoulders, there is a high probability of being able to reach the window.”

You send her an incredulous look before focusing back on the building once more and seeing that she was probably right.

“Fine,” you say with a small huff before stepping up the building and crouching down so that she could sit on your shoulders, grip tightening in your hair as you strain upwards into a stand again, “Easy on the hair Rolal…”

“My apologies,” She loosens her grip a little, but it’s only replaced with her pushing against your head instead as she scrambles to move her feet upwards, resting one palm against the wall and one flat against your head. She sends your shades askew and manages to kick you in the jaw twice, but eventually she finds her balance stood on your shoulders. Her black shoes dirty up your shirt and you quickly grab at the white socks of her ankles to steady her upwards.

“I would ask you not to look up my skirt but something tells me that what you would see isn’t exactly what you are into.”

“Can we please not make this into a sexuality discussion?”

“Okay… but maybe later.” 

And when you glance up from behind half knocked off shades, she sends you a small smile and a wink that has you frowning in disapproval in return.

“What do you see?”

She trails her hands up the wall to hook her fingers over the window ledge, her feet pressing painfully against your shoulders as she pushes onto her tiptoes in order to look through the dirty glass of Karkat’s window. It seems to take forever before she replies again.

“Dave… there’s nobody here. There’s stuff in the room, but the wardrobe is open and there’s no clothes in there. It looks like… It looks like someone packed up in a hurry.”

“Damn right they did.”

The stranger’s voice shocks the both of you and as you jolt, Rose loses her grip on the window ledge, tilting backwards so that she slips from your grip. There is a brief second of panic before your fast reactions kick in and you have whipped around, arms held out to catch the flash of black and purple as she falls with a yelp. But although you are fast, you are not as strong as you might have liked to be, and the sudden weight added to your arms sends both of you stumbling to the floor.

You moan at the stab of pain in your side where you had landed on Rose’s bag, or more specifically, the knitting needle protruding out the top of Rose’s bag, before you roll over onto your back.

Assuring that Rose was okay (if not a little unimpressed at the grass stain on her shirt), your attention fixes back up to the apartment block in search of the source of the voice that had startled you both. This happens to be a woman with scraggly brown hair pulled back into a bun, eyeing the two of you with a look of disdain as she tightens her night gown around her thin frame. She hangs half out of the window above Karkat’s, cigarette in hand.

When she speaks, her voice seems annoyed, her fingers flicking ash down onto the two of you so that Rose gives a small sniff of disapproval.

“You looking for the Vantas’s?”

“Do you know what happened to them?” You sit up quickly, feeling your head spin a little before it steadies itself again. _Don’t get so hopeful, Dave._

“Heh. Damn right I do. Walls are as thin as tissue paper in this fucking place. Could hear them shouting the whole fucking place down about a week ago. Banging doors, chucking stuff, or people, about. I barely care anymore, they’re always at it.”

She pauses to take a drag and you try not to let your impatience show, fists curling at your sides as you remember the harsh slap Karkat’s dad had delivered to his son and the even harsher words he had spat like fire.

Rose senses your frustration, her voice coming calm and soothing as she speaks to the woman, “Do you happen to know where they went?”

“Last thing I heard was that he was taking the kid outta state. Taking him to his grandmother’s for a while. They packed up pretty quick and left at god knows what fucking time in the morning. Whatever it was they were running from, they wanted away from it fast.” 

Your heart sinks to your stomach and you feel like you might be sick right there and then. You want to ask whether she knows when they will come back. When he will come back. But the words are stuck in your throat and she’s already extinguishing the cigarette on the window ledge, disappearing behind the glass with a frown.

“He’s gone.”

Rose doesn’t say anything for a long while, and the silence between the two of you sat side by side is broken only by a passing car and the sound of a group of kids laughing down the street. You feel her grip lightly at your shoulder and you force yourself to look her way, your lips pushed into a grim line.

“Dave… what happened? Why did his dad take him away?” Her voice is soft and careful, as though you were an unstable firework and her words could cause a spark that would set you onto self destruct.

“I was stupid, that’s what happened.” Your legs curl up to your chest and you curl around them tightly, face pushing in against your knees.

Because you can’t believe you never noticed it before all this had happened. The way he’d always been so wary around his apartment block, so refusing of your affections whilst in view of his street. The fact that he had never invited you around to his place, it was always to yours. And his surprise when you had told him that Bro knew you were gay, as though he never expected anyone to accept it so easily.

Of course not everyone accepts it so easily.

His dad’s hatred and expectations had terrified Karkat way more than any of the bullying you had thrown his way. The bullying he could fight back against. His dad’s hatred for anything different, he couldn’t do anything about. How could you not have seen it sooner? 

“His dad… he saw us together. And he got angry. And now Karkat’s fucking gone and I don’t even know where he is or whether he is safe and it’s all my fault.”

The tears are pricking the corners of your eyes and you grip around your legs tightly in an attempt not to cry. Rose’s arms come warm around you and you lean into them, needing it more than you would ever admit. She presses a chaste kiss against the top of your head.

“Too many of us are shamed for those we choose to love.”

And there’s something in the sad way she says it that gives you the impression that she understands more than even you thought she did. So you wrap your arms around her too and you both sit there in silence until the heavens open and you are both soaked to the bone running home.

…

Days nine and ten without a word from Karkat pass by in a blur and you find yourself half hoping that the rest of your life could be spent in this half conscious state of being. Just so that you didn’t have to face the reality that maybe you might never see Karkat again.

John still attempts to talk and joke with you in class, Jade still texts you asking if you wanted to go out with them all after school. Rose knows better and communicates more through encouraging smiles and sympathetic nods of her head. And you’ve found that Karkat’s friends seem to have a newfound hatred for you since Karkat disappeared. Especially after you told Gamzee to ‘fuck off back to the other juggalos’ when he asked if you knew where Karkat had gone.

Everyone seemed so exhausting to be around these days when all you really wanted was the one person who couldn’t be there. Even when your bro returned and tried to talk to you, his words didn’t seem as calming as they usually did and you still found yourself lying awake every night, simply staring at the white ceiling. Hoping sleep would come and drown out all your thoughts.

On night eleven, you find yourself in the same position as every other night, eyes hollow and jaw set in determination to try and fall asleep. But then you hear something that you normally wouldn’t.

A buzz. Your intercom. Someone was calling for your attention from outside the apartment block and you roll your eyes, glancing at the clock that read 1am. It seemed a little early for your bro to be returning from work. And it was also highly annoying that he’d managed to lose his keys?

No. Wait. Bro never lost his keys, and it was always you who was getting locked out and not him at all. And surely he would have just rang you if he’d been locked out? No one uses the intercom these days.

The loud buzz repeats itself, and then continues so that you know that whoever it was, was holding the button down to really try and get your attention. Heart pounding, you jump out of bed, throwing open your door to rush to the intercom and press down the button that cuts off the buzzing.

“H-hello?” Your voice is hoarse and you shiver in just your boxer shorts, trying to find a reason for why your heart was pounding and nervous. There seems to be a long pause before you hear something in reply, the voice coming scratchy through the speakers.

“…Dave.”

And you are already half way out of your apartment, leaving your door wide open and not even bothering to put on any more clothes as you take the stairs down two, three at a time. Feet stumbling in your desperation to be quicker, your bare soles slap against the linoleum at the bottom of the stairs as you reach for the building door, throwing it open to a rush of night air.

And he’s there.

He’s there.

Karkat’s finger falls away from the intercom he had still been holding down, two shiny eyes looking your way, one decorated with a black and blue trimming against the white and red. His lips part shaking and you can see that he hasn’t even got it in him to send you the angry glare you had missed so much. All he seems to be is overwhelmingly broken and sad and relieved to see you.

And you are frozen in disbelief, grip loosening on the door so that you can hold out a hand to him. He hesitates, hand hovering above your own before his cold skin hits yours and you are stepping forward, using his hand to pull him close up against you. Burying your face in the tickle of white hair, wrapping your arms around the small waist. And he’s clinging to you, fingers pushing against your bare back to slide up and grip your shoulders desperately.

He’s shaking and you realize that he is crying, small choked sobs pushing right into your ear as you press kisses against his neck, along his jaw. You stifle his sobs with your lips, tasting salty tears that you realize don’t all belong to Karkat.

But you hardly care that you are crying. Because he was actually here, and you swear on your life that you won’t let him go. You swear that you will keep him safe. You swear you will be the one to make him smile again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what, have this one too. www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ue_shpvy4Bk
> 
> You might as well have my whole damn playlist of music that inspires me for this fic and this song is really beautiful anyways.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Have you ever thought about what protects our hearts?  
>  Just a cage of rib bones and other various parts,  
> So it's fairly simple to cut right through the mess,  
> And to stop the muscle that makes us confess,_
> 
> _And we are so fragile,  
>  And our cracking bones make noise,  
> And we are just breakable, breakable..._

It starts with the smallest of hits against your shoulder, dirty curled up fingers that knock gently against your bare skin. And his fingers dig into your arm tightly, painfully, as the kiss is broken and you can feel it coming like a storm. Grief gives way to anger and frustration as the small messy bundle of emotions you held in your arms starts to lash out.

He’s still crying, but he won’t let you kiss away his tears anymore. He needs another outlet for everything and you couldn’t possibly deny him it, considering you knew how it felt so well. So you let him shove you back. And your bare feet stumble a little against the floor of your apartment block hallway.

“It’s all your fault! You stupid fucking fuckbag! Why couldn’t you just leave me be?! Why did you have to come in and fuck up my whole life?”

He wipes at his eyes roughly, his lips pulled back into a snarl as he launches your way, flooring you with all his weight. And the breath is knocked out of you, your hands grasping hard at any part of his shirt you could manage. Trying to pull him off you was useless though and you could only just manage to dodge your head to the side in order to avoid his fist.

And his words are still coming, fast and sharp like knives.

“You just waltz around feeling so fucking sorry for yourself when you haven’t got anything to fucking complain about. You have _no fucking idea_ what you do with your stupid fucking words and your kisses.” 

His fingers wrap around your neck and you grab at his wrists tightly, trying to stop the slow squeezing against your windpipe. Lips parted, you know that no words you could say would stop him. And his knee pushes up between your legs, rough black denim scratching harshly against the bare skin of your inner thigh.

“Why do I need you? Why is it _you?_ “

His fingers squeeze and you breathe in a sharp, short breath. His eyes are locked on yours, tears breaking free at the corners to stain his pale cheeks in dark wet trails. And you have missed him so much.

In a second you have released his wrists to grab his hair, yanking him harshly to the side as your legs kick out at his knees to break his balance. He falls as you expect him to, his hands slipping from your throat and his nails digging deep to scratch across your chest in his attempts to regain control.

But it was time for you to fight back now, because he wasn’t the only one full of built up frustration that needed to be released.

“You _need_ me? No, you fucking _left_ me. You left me in this god damn town to rot without a single word.”

You scramble to your knees, shoving his chest hard enough to stop his own attempts to get up. Hearing him growl, you curl over into the hard kick he delivers to your stomach, your hands fumbling to take hold of his ankle and twist it. He cries out, retreating back away from you. And you follow him, pushing all your weight against his shoulders so that his back hits the floor and you have him pinned.

He growls, pushing back against your hands desperately.

“You are literally the most selfish, stupidest asswipe I have ever had the unpleasure of meeting!”

He’s so loud, you are fairly sure that the people in the apartments above could hear the two of you, but you have little time to consider this fact before you feel his hands on either side of your head. He holds you in place, bringing his own forehead up to crack against the bridge of your nose.

You see white for a brief second, dazed, before your focus is back again and Karkat is lay beneath you, wide eyes following the slow, constant drip of blood now falling from your nose. 

You glare down at him, breathing heavy and lips pulled into a fierce frown. Wiping a hand across your nose, you smear warm blood along your cheek, ready to fight back, but you freeze. Because he’s turned slack beneath you, his own breathing heavy and laboured.

“I didn’t want to leave you. And I would have told you everything if I could… I would have explained everything… but my dad…”

The tension seems to drain from you and you take a second before you half collapse on top of him. Pressing the bleeding nose up against his shirt, your fingers trace his outline, sliding up the side of his neck and drifting across the smooth skin of his cheek.

“It’s okay.”

He doesn’t reply for a long time, but you can feel his chest moving beneath you from his breathing, growing gradually slower as he runs out of steam. He’s used up all his anger and he’s back to the fragile state you had found him in again. You needed to be gentle.

Curling your legs on either side of him, you press against his body, shivering in just your boxers so that he wraps his arms around your middle, holding you against him.

“I’m sorry… for blaming you. It was you. It was always you. But that doesn’t mean it was your _fault._ ”

“Nah, it was partly my fault. I think we were both too wrapped up in each other to realize that things could change if we were caught.” Your voice comes muffled against his shirt and you lift your head, frowning at the blood stain you had left behind, “But I missed you. I missed you so much.”

And there was just the smallest of smiles lighting up Karkat’s lips, making your heart swell. 

“I missed you too. Why else would I come back, dumbass?”

“Because you couldn’t resist this hot piece of Strider ass, clearly.” You breathe out half a laugh and for a second you can see the flash of resistance like fire in his eyes before it’s dimmed out again, once more dull. He’s not quite broken, but he’s in need of some repair.

Pushing yourself up away from him, you stand, holding a hand out to him which he hesitatingly accepts before you pull him to his feet. He’s like dead weight and you frown, turning to offer your back to him wordlessly.

He gives a small huff of disapproval, but he doesn’t fight against it, clambering up onto your back and clinging to you tightly. His legs squeeze against your stomach, the hard rubber from the soles of his trainers digging in against the bare skin of your sides a little painfully. But you wouldn’t want it any other way.

The climb back to your apartment is made in silence as you try not to comment on the occasional sniffing noises Karkat makes from behind, or the fact that when he blinks, you can feel his eyelashes move against the back of your neck, and they’re wet, tear stained. This climb seems a lot less fun than the first one you had made all that time ago. When he had grumbled into your ear and you had laughed at his inability to climb a few set of stairs.

When he stands in your bedroom, he seems aimless, fingers pulling at his sleeves as two crimson eyes follow your quick movements. 

“What are you doing?”

“Creating a safe place.”

He frowns in confusion and you shake your head a little, pulling out two blunt swords from beneath your bed, the blades glinting silver in the moonlight as you push back your bedsheets. 

You’d like to think that after all the time you had spent together, you knew Karkat fairly well. Which was why you knew that Karkat wasn’t going to let you in, or tell you what had happened without knowing that he was in a safe place. He needed somewhere he could escape to. And you knew exactly what to do.

Raising one sword, you quickly plunge it downwards into your mattress, feeling it slice through the padding and springs to hit the wooden support beams at the bottom with a satisfying thud. Leaving a small gap, you slice the second sword in further up your mattress, your tongue poking out a little as you appraise your handiwork. 

Out the corner of your eye, you see Karkat step forward but you quickly hold up a hand to silence him, scrambling with skinny legs and shaking hands to grasp a large torch from your bedside drawer.

“Fucking, cheap piece of shit…” you mumble to yourself as you hit the side of the torch in order to let it flicker to life, a dull yellow beam shining straight into Karkat’s face so that he blinks and shouts a curse your way. His hand comes up to form a dark shadow against his pale face in the light before you lower it, smiling a little in apology. 

And then you reach for your bed sheets, draping them clumsily across the two raised sword handles so that they hung suspended in the air, slowly forming into a tent shaped den as you tuck the corners of the sheets into the edges of your bed . 

As the final touch, you set the torch in the middle of your makeshift sword fort, light shining upwards to bounce against the swooping white sheets and set a warm yellow glow across the bare mattress.

“A safe place, yeah?” You turn his way, and he takes another step forward, catching the edge of the sheet between his fingers and pushing his lips hard together.

“This is the dumbest fucking fort I’ve ever seen,” his eyes hit yours and the knot that had been tight in your chest slackens. Because, at last, the tone in which he had snapped at you was growing slowly more like the old Karkat, “And was it really necessary to stab your damn mattress with some fucking swords? Most people make forts out of pillows and shit, Strider.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not like most people, are we?” You smirk his way and you can see him tilt his head a little, eyes boring into you and forcing your gaze downwards, cheeks flushing, “Bro used to make them like this when I was a kid. It’s stupid, I know.”

“No… it’s nice.” 

He pulls off his shoes, mumbling something quietly to himself before he crawls up onto the bed, dipping beneath the hanging sheet and sending the exposed blade a wary glance as he sits himself beside the torch, knees curling up against his chest in the confined environment. He looks so small, and it takes you a few awkward seconds of just watching him glance about the fort before you jolt yourself into movement, crawling to sit opposite him.

You’ve grown a lot since you’d pulled off this whole bedsheet fort thing, and even with stooping, your head pushes up against one side of the sheet. But you couldn’t care less about the fact that it made your hair messy or added a sense of claustrophobia to the silence settling between you. Your mind wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to the fact that your nose was still stained crimson red with dried blood, or the appearance of four thin scratch lines burning red against the pale of your chest.

All you could think of was him, and the fact that he was really, truly back with you and sat in your stupid makeshift den. His features were soft in the torch light, but you can still pick out the bruise of his black eye and, beneath the harsh shadows of his wavy hair, you catch the thin red line of a cut that hadn’t been there when you had last seen him. 

“You should know how sorry I am… for not coming back for you that day,” You start and you see two wide, black pupils dart your way beneath his quickly furrowing brow, “Fuck, I shouldn’t have left you in the first place. And then you were gone and I didn’t know where, and I was thinking, maybe… maybe if I’d just gone back later that night I could have stopped you from leaving and-“

“Don’t be so fucking stupid, dipshit.”

His tone isn’t as harsh as it usually is, his fingers curling tightly against his ankles to pull them closer up against himself. You resist the urge to hold him. Fuck, you wanted to hold him.

“My dad would’ve shoved your god damn shades down your throat and had you thrown in a cell at the local jail for trespassing if you’d come anywhere near our place that night. It was best for you to stay away… I could handle him.” He shrugs his shoulders, sending anger flaring up inside you as you lean forward.

“You could handle him? Do you mean, you can take his damn beatings? Don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Vantas, I saw him that day.”

Your fingers reach out, brushing up against the bruised skin as he flinches back from your touch, causing you to wince as though he’d physically hurt you.

“I said, I can fucking handle it.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t. I can’t fucking _bear it_ to see you like this,” Your words are as sharp as knives, spilling quick from your mouth and disrupted only by your voice breaking just the tiniest amounts, giving you away, “I love you, you stupid fucker. I love you and I’d rather be beaten black and blue by your dad than let him lay a single finger on you ever again.”

You push your hand forward again, persisting through his flinch backwards to grasp lightly at his chin, forcing him to look up at you. His eyes dart about, and they are shiny again in the torch light, spilling over into tears as he blinks.

“He’ll come after me, Dave,” He’s so quiet, and you can see that he’s shaking, your other hand reaching to push between the gaps in his fingers, linking you, “He’ll come, and he’s going to be so pissed that I ran away. I’ve never seen him like this before. It’s terrifying.”

His confession seems to break him. Expression cracking under the pressure; he’s just your fragile boy reaching out in your direction, his other hand squeezing desperately against your own fingers. It almost tears you apart also, chest aching and head turning light as the torch between the two of you is knocked onto its side as Karkat tips forward on his hands and knees, moving your way.

The change in light means that you can feel him better than you can see him, your legs quickly straightening out as your hands fumble to wrap around his waist, pulling him onto your lap. Your foot hits against one of the sharp blades, but it’s dull enough not to cut you. Not like you would have cared much either way, though.

“I’m not… I’m never going to let him take you. I swear to god. I swear I’ll not let him anywhere near you.” 

His legs wrap around your hips, arms turning vice like around your chest as he presses his face into your neck. He accepts the kisses you press against his forehead, the hand you rub against his back in slow circles. He lets you rock him back and forth, humming a tune into his hair that keeps cracking at the high notes. But he doesn’t say anymore, instead tracing patterns against the skin of your back with his fingertips.

You’re so glad to have him back.

Minutes or hours pass by, you aren’t sure which, but you are definitely sure of the fact that he grows slowly calmer in your arms. His crying stops after a small while, even his hands falling still against your back so that you aren’t sure whether or not he has fallen asleep until his voice comes quiet in the dark. 

“Dave?”

“Mm?”

You halt your humming, head pulling back a little to tip down his way. And he looks up at you with a steady gaze, his breath pushing past his lips fast as though nervous. It takes him a second, but he eventually pushes up to peck his lips against your own.

He gives such the sweetest kisses, made all the more heartbreaking by the fact that they tasted salty from his tears. You haven’t the heart to find the irony in it though, only squeezing him tighter against your chest protectively. But his own movements seem halted and unsure, and you realize that he needed to say more. He was just holding back for some reason.

“What is it?” You ask softly, taking in the heavy blush that had stained his cheeks, his lips still pulled down in that small, sad smile he seemed haunted by.

“I… I need you to do something for me…”

“Anything.”

He chews back his lower lip, seeming in conflict over something before he shakes his head, breathing out a shaky sigh against your skin.

“If you love me, then I need you to show me… I feel like… fuck, it doesn’t even matter. I just want you… to have… all of me.” And to make his point clear, he rolls his hips down against yours, his fingers curling against your back as his eyes search for yours in the dark, scared but sure.

Realization dawns on you and almost splinters your heart in two. Because when Karkat had been dragged away from this town, he’d been beaten and shamed and just so deprived of any kind of love that he feels like he needed proof of your own love. 

“You know that I love you, no matter what, right? You don’t have to do this…”

“I want this,” He frowns and you feel his legs tighten around you, “I want you.”

You’ve loved him far too long to be able to deny that you don’t want him too, his kiss sealing the deal as soft lips press against your own. He’s more persistent this time round though, kissing you slow and deep, coaxing your tongue to slide against his own. 

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

You hold his head close, fingers curling up against wild white strands of hair as you transfer your lips to suck gently against his damp cheeks, dipping along his jaw line. He gives a soft noise which sounds scarily like a whimper as you run your tongue along his neck.

“Dave…”

“I love you.”

And then you tip backwards, pulling the bed sheet from one of the swords propping it up, the fort half collapsing in the same way that Karkat half collapses on top of you. And your foot pushes hard enough against the sword edge to break the skin, drawing blood.

Cut stinging, head reeling, Karkat’s lips find your own again in the dark.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.

The first thing you notice about Karkat Vantas whilst undressing him with shaking hands, even in the dark, and even half smothered by the white of your bed sheets, is that this boy is spotted black and blue. 

Anger burns, white hot and not calmed by the smooth of his hands across your own bare chest, because you cannot understand why anyone would harm so easily against something so beautiful. The bruises were physical reminders of the price you both paid for loving too easily and carelessly, but reminders seemingly easily ignored by Karkat, choosing to not let it curb the enthusiasm with which he occupied your lips with his own.

His attempts to morph your anger become more successful with every nip against your lower lip and squeeze against your thigh, hormones playing along to create nothing short of passion running through your veins. So that when you feel him grasping at the waistband of your boxers, your own hands follow suit, sliding along the curve of his spine to dip below his underwear. Your fingers curl against his ass and you drag your nails upwards, feeling the soft flesh give way and imagining the thin red scratch lines you had surely left behind.

You can hear him breathing, fast and heavy from the dwindling supply of oxygen left between the two of you trapped beneath the bedsheets. It was hot as well, almost unbearably so, with heated bare skin pressed flush against your own. So you slide an arm around his back, twisting your body so that he’s switched to lying beneath you and you can fumble desperately with the bedsheets, pulling them free from the tangle of your bodies and allowing the pleasant sting of cool air to cut at the exposed skin.

Faint torchlight bounces back against the marked body beneath you, his white hair plastered against his forehead and his dark eyes glaring challenges in your direction. When you lean down to press a kiss against a bruise covering his collarbone, he slides his hands around your neck, exploring down along the skin between your shoulder blades before running his fingers back up to grab at your hair.

“Are you sure you wan-“

“Dave, just fuck me.”

The words send a shiver down your spine and your eyes snap up to meet his own, his brow furrowing in determination as he uses the grip in your hair to tug your face parallel. His kiss is almost overwhelming, head tilted and lips parted, and you feel like you are stumbling along to keep up with the demanding bites and sucks. But dammit, he was sure getting the point across.

He pulls roughly at your boxers, his nails scratching against your hipbones and then at your thighs as the underwear is tugged down to around your knees. 

“Fuck me,” he repeats in a low growl directed right into your ear, his fingers surrounding your erection and stroking at it slowly to make your breath hitch against his cheek.

You don’t think you’ve ever heard a demand sound quite so wonderful.

Kissing him slowly in compliance, your lips move in an almost lazy manner which disguised the fact that the rest of your body seemed to be moving too fast. Heart pounding, blood rushing, breath shaky, everything about you was nervous and eager as you run your palms along his sides, grasping hard at his hips. 

When you flip him to face the mattress, the break of the kiss leaves your lips needing more and you press them at the base of his neck instead. His hands curl against the sheets, and as you shift backwards, he parts his legs and raises his hips almost in invitation. When you run your hands down his back, you feel him shiver under your touch, causing the smallest of smiles to break out on your lips before you grab at his underwear. Sliding the boxers down, you can see the faint red lines you had left behind before on the exposed skin and you dip to kiss against them gently.

“You’ve never done this before, right?”

Karkat gives a small growl, but you can see him shake his head, red cheeks hidden against the bedsheet.

“It’s okay, I’ll be gentle.” 

He doesn’t reply, but you hear him let out a shaky breath and you press another soft kiss at the base of his spine.

Of course, he wasn’t the only one who was nervous in this situation, and you almost find yourself toppling off the side of the bed in your attempts to untangle your legs from your boxers. To reach your bedside drawer you have to navigate around the swords and half destroyed fort, and you can see Karkat’s head turn your way out the corner of your eye, a half amused, half still nervous look on his face.

You thank god that you actually have lube, squeezing the bottle against your fingers and biting your lip hard at the way Karkat’s hips move upwards just a fraction in anticipation. His spine curves back down towards the bed where you can see his shoulders rising and falling with his heavy breathing. You don’t need to be able to see his face to know that he was probably pulling the most amazingly fuckable expression. _Fuck._

Carefully, you spread him with one hand, pressing the slicked up fingers of your other hand against his entrance before you slide one finger in slowly. His body tenses slightly, his breathing cut off for a moment or two as he is no doubt shocked by the unfamiliar intrusion. But then you feel him push back against the finger slowly, encouraging you on.

Adding a second digit, he gives a small squeak, his face turning to the side so that you could see the dark flush on his cheeks, the white blonde eyebrows pulled down over closed eyes. You figure it must be painful, because fuck, he was really tight, but then again, he doesn’t seem to complain when you start to push in and out of him slowly, his lips parting in a small “Ah!” when you curl your fingers deep inside him.

Remaining patient, you work him up slowly, running your free hand up and down his thighs, along his side and over his shoulderblades to tangle in the white hair as your fingers start to scissor gently inside him. He makes a few wonderful noises, tipping over into slightly desperate sounding moans when your free hand reaches around to slide against his need.

God, you wanted to fuck him. 

And every push back against your fingers that he made reminded you that he wanted it too, until you could barely stand it any longer. 

You retreat your fingers back, shifting closer on your knees so that you can wrap your fingers around one of his sides, pressing your fingertips hard against one of his hipbones to hold him still as you reach for the lube again.

Despite all the times you’d imagined this happening, and you had to admit that you’d often thought about what it would be like to fuck Karkat Vantas, you don’t think it could have possibly prepared you for it actually happening.

Because as much as it was a physical, sexual experience, pleasure racking through your body as you inch yourself into his entrance slowly, feeling his tightness surround you, watching his knuckles turn white and hearing his choked gasps; it was also so much more. It was the fact that you’d never been as close as you were to him right now, and he’d never trusted you as much as what he did when he was letting you do this to him. You were just full of so much love and desire, it was nearly unbearable.

He curses sharply against the bed and you can feel his legs shaking from the pain and unfamiliarity of it all so you stroke against his sides gently, humming softly to calm him as you push in a little deeper. 

Waiting until he seemed to have soothed himself into untensing, you start to pick up a slow, gentle pace, your eyes slipping shut so that your senses are overloaded with the friction caused with each thrust forward. And he was growing louder with every push up into him, his own hips starting to move in time to your pace to quicken the contact, pulling noises from your own lips which added to his groans.

By the time you grasp hard against his hips, nails digging in against his skin, the two of you had established a way of moving together that had you thrusting forward hard enough to pull cries from his mouth that you’d never thought he was capable of making. When he arches his back, chest pushing down against the bed, you make sure to tilt your hips a little so that when you thrust into him again, he turns rigid and his head tilts up away from the sheets. 

“Fuck! Dave…”

_Oh. So that was where that little spot was…_

Loud as he had been before, it was nothing compared to the moans he let slip as you fucked him with the knowledge that with a carefully aimed thrust, you could have him seeing white. He doesn’t even protest when you start to thrust into him faster, knowing that there must also be elements of pain along with pleasure involved in the action.

“I love you…” you half moan as you slip a hand from one of his hips to grasp at his length, leaning over him as you move to press kisses along his back. He’s heated and tense beneath you, just as lost in the mess of pleasure and physical contact as what you are, but he seems to suit it so much better, pale skin tinged red, and crooked white teeth biting hard against the pink of his lower lip.

He groans your name, and you can almost feel it on your skin, thrusting into him so deep that his body jolts slightly from the shock of it. He’s close to finishing, but so are you.

Sliding your fingers against his erection faster, he bites against the bed sheets to stifle his groan before he spills streams of white onto the bed. And you can swear he grows tighter around you as you push hard into him, feeling a tight knot of heat uncurl inside you, tipping you over the edge.

You only have enough time to quickly pull out of him before you come, smearing the back of his thighs with a quiet whine as you stroke yourself through your finish.

And for a few seconds, neither of you find it in yourselves to move, quietly taking a moment to listen to each other panting, thinking over exactly what it was that the two of you had just done. Because this wasn’t just some clumsy handjob or unexpected blowjob after drinking a little too much and letting hormones get the better of you. This was almost as though there was no turning back for the both of you.

When you fall back onto the bed beside him, face staring up at the ceiling as you try to regulate your breathing, it only takes a second before you can feel Karkat’s weight move up beside you. He shifts the dirty bedsheets out of the way, wiping at his messed thighs carefully before shuffling slowly closer. You look across at him, his hair even more curled at the ends than usual, his cheeks still tainted as crimson as the irises he lands on you.

“That really fucking hurt. I thought you were going to be gentle you lying fucktard,” he mumbles, shifting a little with a frown before he tips onto his side and rests himself half across your chest, “But it was kind of everything I really fucking needed… Thank you.”

He kisses you, a short, embarrassed peck against your lips which has you smirking before it was even over. You slide your arms around his waist, holding him close against your chest so that he buries his face in your neck.

“You’re welcome, any time, Vantas…” 

“Fuck off, you smug bastard.”

“Fuck off? Nah, I’d rather fuck you- Oh wait. I already did.” 

He breaks off your quiet laughter with a hit against your chest, hard enough to hurt, but soon followed by his fingers soothing the assaulted area. 

“I missed you,” he admits quietly, and it had never sounded more true, making you fairly sure that you never wanted to be in the situation ever again where those words needed to be said.

“I love you.”

Forgetting about what would happen in the morning, or what Bro would say, or whether Karkat’s dad would come and find him here, you take the time to just feel Karkat grow heavy and slack across your chest as he fell asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan on only two more chapters after this one, and one of them will probably only be half a chapter really. So yeah, that's a heads up... ollies outie.
> 
> And check out [this hella rad art ](http://affectionatetea.tumblr.com/post/39461336736/i-found-white-and-red-by-ships-ahoy-last-night) if you guys haven't already seen it. Super rad.

You last one weekend. But it’s the sweetest tasting weekend you’ve ever experienced.

The Saturday morning begins with you waking late, to him still pressed bare against you, and he’s peppering the freckles on your shoulder with kisses. That is, until he realizes that you’d woken up, at which point he recoils back with a huff, cheeks burning. You laugh and he frowns harder.

He looks so wonderful when he sits in your shirt, dark bruises covered by the familiar white and red of shirt fabric. It’s too long on him, only the very tips of his dark boxer shorts peeking out from beneath the bottom where his legs curl against your bedsheets. He eats the toast you make for breakfast quickly, messily, and his lips taste like hot butter against your tongue afterwards. 

You spend a long time like that, just you and him in your room. He talks about his dad and eats all your food, but he won’t let you leave him to go shower or talk to bro. You aren’t complaining though, because you don’t _want_ to leave him. Not when he clings to you so tightly, grumbling incomprehensible thoughts against your chest, cycling his way through a repetitive routine of hitting out, pushing you away, and then mumbling apologies as he pulled you closer. You watch how the sun gets lower in the sky each time you take a cigarette out your bedroom window, and not for the first time, you wish you could make it stop. 

His complexion seems ghostly in the glow of your tv screen, eyes following the characters of one of his silly rom-com movies he’d left round your place. He’s lost in it, lips quirking upwards slightly when he sees the characters on screen kiss in the rain. You wonder if he’s thinking of your kiss. He glances your way and you know he is.

The night grows late, you grow tired of messing with your turntables, letting the record play out as your fingers find their way to Karkat’s messy hair instead. His kisses become heated, hips driving together when you press closer, between his legs. You move slowly and he growls, cursing you with colorful expletives that seem just a second language to you now. 

When you fuck him, there is a sureness in both of your actions that’s only gained with having some kind of experience in the situation. You take the time to litter kisses against his neck, feeling his vocal chords vibrate under your lips as he moans your name. His hands wrap around the back of your neck, and your fingers grip against the soft flesh of his thigh. And when you both finish, you fit together so well under the sheets, listening to the needle quietly and repetitively jump at the end of the spinning record on your turntables until you fall asleep.

He seems more at ease on the Sunday, his clingy uncertainness disappears and he lets you talk to bro about the situation. Bro chooses to stay out of it, but not without warning you of how dangerous things could turn, and you catch the way his lips twitch downwards worriedly. You’re worried yourself, but you try not to think about it too hard out of fear of facing the fact that you couldn’t hide out in your room with him forever like this.

When you hear bro leave the apartment, you’re quick to pull Karkat into the shower with you. He complains endlessly about how your height advantage stole all the water from him, nearly biting at you in retaliation when he slips and you’re quick to catch him under his arms. But he soon settles when you rub the shampoo into his hair, telling you to ‘stop shitting about’ when you spike the bubbly white hair up into two little horns.

His eyes scrunch up tight when you direct the showerhead towards his face, his mouth spluttering against the onslaught of water washing away his shampoo. You laugh until he shoves you against the shower cubicle wall, lips still tasting soapy when he tugs your wet hair to pull you into a kiss.

It’s so wonderful to have him back; it almost feels like he was never gone at all. You love to watch the way his hair gradually dries and slowly becomes curlier at the ends, and he admits that he missed seeing your ‘douchebag shades’ with a little less sarcasm than he might have first implied. 

Videogames lead to play-fighting and you’ve even missed the way he hits and kicks you, short and skinny limbs easily won against despite his sheer enthusiasm. He’s red faced from exertion, eyes alight with frustration and passion and you take the time to show him your new Polaroid camera, laughing when he practically cringes away from the lens.

“Dude, chill. We’ll get one together…” you reassure him, holding the camera up in front of the two of you sat side by side. 

Your finger stills over the capture button and he grumbles a question of why you hadn’t taken it yet, to which you simply reply with a small tap against your cheek with your free hand.

“Aw fuck no.”

“Fuck yes.”

“Dave, I’m not gonna fucking kiss you for your dumbass photo, this isn’t a fucking-“

“Rom-com? Because, really Karkat, I would have thought you’d have enjoyed that.”

His eyes narrow, lips curling down at the exact same time yours curl up into a quiet laugh. You raise your eyebrows, head tilting slightly to offer your cheek up to him further, nudging him with your elbow so that you hear him sigh heavily.

A soft pressure of his lips against your cheek and you press the shutter to capture the Image, fingers reaching for the photo as it instantly prints out. And a minute of gentle shaking later, you hold the photo out in front of you both in all its glory.

His hair is untamed, flicking at the ends to frame his ear, and his one visible eye is squeezed tightly shut, his nose scrunched up against your cheekbone. He was fire engine red, lips pressed against your cheek as you grin stupidly into the camera, half of the shot taken up by your arm holding the camera up. It was hardly photography art, but it was imperfectly great.

“You look like such a fucking dork,” he mumbles, fondness in his tone.

“Yeah, whatever you say, Elmo. I mean, wow, could your face get any more red?”

“Fuck off.”

You kiss him and he kisses back until the photo lies forgotten among the piles of clothes you drop to the floor.

Yes, the weekend is the sweetest tasting weekend you have ever experienced, but it is as long as you will last.

Because Monday morning welcomed you with the sound of an obnoxious alarm telling you to go the fuck to school. But surprisingly, it wasn’t the only sound that had woken you, the sound of someone banging at your apartment door jolting both of you awake in confusion.

Karkat sits, rubbing at his eye as you quickly slip on your shades and boxers, moving to open your bedroom door to investigate what the everloving fuck was going on so early on a Monday morning. Bro seems less than pleased about the early wake-up call also as he flings open the front door in just his underwear and shades, expression set to an almost scary level of pissed off as he looks over the two police officers stood on the other side.

“Is this the residence of Dave Strider?”

“That’s my lil’ bro, yes. He been fucking some shit up or summit?” Bro yawns, leaning against the doorway and crossing his arms across about 20 years worth of working out muscle. You watch carefully from your bedroom doorway, hearing your heart pound loud in your ears.

“We believe he may be linked to the disappearance of a teenage boy named Karkat Vantas. The kid’s father reported him going missing last week and he seems to believe that your brother had a connection with him…” 

One of the police officers catches you watching through the doorway and a shiver runs cold down your spine, your jaw set in a firm line as you stare right back at him through your shades. Fuck, fuck, don’t let it get to you.

Bro was speaking, but you realize that you hadn’t been listening, attention fixed on the small movements Karkat was making on the bed behind you, probably listening into the conversation also. And the next thing you know, the police officer who had been looking at you was speaking again.

“Mr Strider, I hope you don’t mind but I think we’d like to take a quick search around your apartment to ascertain th-“

The police officer’s approach towards the door was cut short along with his words as a katana sword is plunged hard into the doorframe. The sharp blade cracks and splinters the wood, barring entry to the shocked looking police officers. Bro tilts his head in a small smirk, shoulders pushing back and his fingers uncurling from the sword handle as he starts to speak, slow and almost lazylike.

“Now, I might be wrong here, officers of the law… but I’m fairly sure you need yourselves a warrant to come searching people’s places like that, no?”

Everything about him screamed intimidation, and the way in which the police officers stepped back slightly was proof of it, even if you knew that Bro would hardly have it in him to seriously harm a fly without patching up it’s little wings and sending it on its way afterwards. You’ve never been so proud of being related to him.

“W-well then,” the police officer clears his throat, seems to puff out his chest slightly in an attempt to regain some dominance. Like Bro cared, his position back to slouching tiredly against the doorframe next to the blade.

“We’ll be back with a warrant tomorrow, Mr Strider. I assure you. And those blades better be put away next time unless you want a case of threatening a police officer on your hands.”

“Who’s threatening here?”

Bro shrugs, already reaching for the blade to easily pull it out from the wood again, his other hand moving to close the door before the officers could even give him a reply.

You can feel your stomach twisting and turning unpleasantly, catching his gaze through two pairs of shades when he turns back around from the door. His lips are set in a grim line that surely matches your own and when he steps towards you, you quickly shake your head. No, you didn’t want to talk about it, you didn’t want his help. Not now.

So he halts, giving a small nod in your direction.

“Just make sure to go to school today, you’ll only look worse if you don’t, okay kid? I’m here if you need me.”

You smile your thanks, but it’s shaky and scared, hidden quickly behind your door as you click it shut and lean your forehead against the solid wood. Karkat’s hands are slipping around your waist in an instant, his warmth pressing against your back, wet cheek leaning against your shoulder. You don’t want him to cry.

“I need to leave…”

His small voice has your head snapping up, body turning in his arms to face him angrily.

“You’re not leaving… and I’m not going to let them take you from me. I fucking swear to god, Vantas.”

You take his flushed cheeks in your hands and kiss him over and over, trying to coax his slack lips into responding with something other than a defeated frown. But it doesn’t work and when you tell him that you love him, he just looks away and tells you to get ready for school.

It nearly breaks your heart.

His hands slip from your waist and the bare skin feels wrong without the touch, the fingers running through your hair don’t feel right when they didn’t belong to him. You watch him sit on the edge of your bed, frown lit up momentarily as he plays with your lighter, dark red eyes staring into the flame and legs curled up against his chest. Too small, he was too small and all yours and _what were you going to do now?_


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ==> Be Karkat Vantas
> 
> Your name is Karkat Vantas and it’s about fucking time you got a chance to give your point of view on this shitstir of a situation you’ve found yourself in.

You’ve seen a lot of terrible rom-coms in your life, you’ll admit to that. But the only thing you learn from each new movie you watch is how unbelievably _wrong_ they all are about love. Love isn’t all quirky jokes and mishaps, all inevitably leading to your two favorite characters living happily ever after. It was painful, and scary, and full of uncertainty. It was something you never wanted to feel ever again.

Yet despite this, once you’d found yourself in love, there was little you could do to get out of it. It held you kicking and screaming with sharp claws and teeth, it tore you to pieces in your attempts to escape it. To escape him. And you’ve tried so hard. You’ve tried to think about when you’d first moved to this shitty town and he’d made your life a living hell with his taunts and his bullying. You will yourself to think about some of the bruises you were left with after fighting at school with him, the nights you spent breaking and cracking under the pressure so that you cried and held kitchen scissors to your hair. Maybe if you cut it off, he would leave you alone.

You hated everything about Dave Strider, you always had. He was a textbook example douchebag with an added air of assholery. He thinks he’s the coolest kid in school with his stupid ass shades and his smoking and his impassiveness. He’s attractive, but he pretends not to notice the way girls look at him. He spends more attention on you, but it’s far from flattering in the way he makes you hurt.

God fucking damn Dave Strider.

You could have easily spent the rest of your life hating him with every fibre of your body; growling at him in the corridor, kicking back at him when he pinned you against the lockers, chucking back his insults with just as much spite. _But then he’d fucked it all up, hadn’t he?_

You’d caught him breaking a mirror in the toilets at school one day, you’d caught a flash of something other than his usual smirk in his expression that made you want to clean that blood away. And he’d let you. Fuck him for letting you do that.

And you’d never quite seen him the same way again, with every fight with him now charged with a different kind of energy which made you wonder if he felt it too. 

You’d dreamt about him one night. And he’d pinned you against the lockers in quite a different way, with those hands pulling at your shirt, slipping down your jeans. His lips had been everywhere but your mouth, sucking and biting and making you moan. The Dave Strider in your dream had you waking in a sweat with boxers too tight and a hatred so strong you’d had to scream into your pillow.

You hated him, but it turned out he was just like you… and the dreams got worse. Because now in your dreams, those damn shades were gone and we was looking right at you with wide red eyes. And he was more attractive than you’d ever thought he could be, sending you into a groaning, panting mess every night. Until the night he’d kissed you.

And the second time, you’d kissed back. 

The insufferable bastard had you wanting him more than anyone else in the world, and you hated him even more for it.

He told you he loved you, he kissed you whenever he wanted to, and he looked at you in ways too uncomfortably different to the impassive apathy he’d always adopted so well. He scared the living shit out of you with his affection.

The way he moved his hands and mouth were no longer things you only experienced in your dreams, because he was all over you at every opportunity. He was overwhelming, but pleasantly so, because it helped to curb your doubts that maybe he would go right back to hating you like he had done before. If he’d ever hated you… it was hard to tell with him.

And as time had gone on, he was still there for you when you’d shown up on his doorstep, covered in bruises from your dad and hatred in your heart for everyone and everything.

So you’re pretty sure that the rom-com movies you watch have it all wrong when it comes to love. 

Because to you, love was the way he’d looked at you all that time ago as you’d shoved his bloody hand in the sink, and the way he’d let you hit and kick him when you were hurting and hateful. Love wasn’t the way he kissed you but rather the times when he looked like he really wanted to but held back, and love wasn’t the way he let you curl against him to watch movies, but rather the sarcastic insults he made at the terrible plotlines whilst stroking his fingers through your hair. 

He was stubborn, and frustratingly annoying, and he smoked too much, and laughed too little. But you loved his smile, and the way he moaned your name. The way he used his height to piss you off, just as much as he used it to carry you up seven floors of stairs on two different occasions. The way he pulls back from kisses to make you follow his lips, only so that he could kiss you hard back down into the bed again. The way he fucks you, bites you, scratches you in the heat so that you begin to think you’ll never feel warm again unless his body was pushing up against you.

You hate him so much for how much you need him.

But you can’t stay with him. And although he ignorantly and stubbornly believes that the two of you could just stay like this forever, you know that he’s wrong. Because your dad was looking for you, the police were looking for you, and you weren’t even 18 years old yet. There was still school and decisions and things you needed to do before you could think about holing up in Dave’s room forever hiding. 

The morning the cops come calling at his door, you can’t bring it in yourself to kiss him back, as much as you want to. And for once in your life, you’re glad he’s wearing his shades so that you don’t have to see his eyes when you pull back and move to sit on the bed.

“I can fix this. I ca—“

“Didn’t I tell you to just get ready for school?”

It comes out snappier than you intended and you catch a small flinch from Dave out the corner of your eye. Good. You hoped it hurt him. You hoped he started to hate you and ignore you and forget you so that all this would be so much easier.

When your eyes dart away from the lighter’s flame, you catch him watching you. His usually perfected hair was still fixed in disarray from the night you’d shared together, white blonde flicking on his forehead where it met the dark tint of his glasses. His shoulders are tense, and his breathing is heavy but controlled like it always was when he was trying not to crack.

You want to wrap your arms around him, count seventeen years worth of scars on his chest and back using only your fingertips. You want to hear him say he loves you, low and quiet in your ear and heavy with that southern accent he only lets slip when he’s really tired. You want everything you can’t have.

He starts to move about his room silently, and you try your hardest not to watch him because it hurt too much to look at him. When he’s managed to dress himself and smooth his hair out a little, he sits beside you on the bed, fidgeting with a loose thread on his jeans before he begins speaking.

“What if… what if I can get someone to help us? Someone who knows about us, someone who’s practically like a sister to me and would be able to help me?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Rose. If I can ask her to let you stay with her for a while, just until all this blows over and the police have checked our apartment, then everything should be okay, right? I mean, it makes sense, and I don’t think I’m panicking quite so much anymore so that means it must be a good idea, yeah? I think so.”

He’s speaking rapid fire, babbling in that ridiculously endearing way which makes your heart twist and your lips tip upwards in half a smile.

He catches it, because you can see the way his whole expression seems to light up in the small changes you’d learnt to read so easily. It seems the worst kind of shame that he’s misread your smile as an agreement to his plan, but you refuse to correct him if it meant he could look happy for just the smallest amount of time.

“Dave?” 

You hadn’t realized how tight your chest was until the name came out sounding funny and you have to quickly clear your throat and shake your head angrily. He smirks a little at that and you send him a glare before continuing.

“Can you promise me something?”

“Hm, well fuck, Vantas. I dunno, a promise seems like an awful big thing to keep. I mean, I don’t think I’m capable of that level of responsibility. I killed my pet goldfish when I was 6 because I fed it bacon, but if you think I’m ready to keep a promise then fire right ahead.”

“God, shut up. Just…” you chew at your lower lip, curling your legs tighter to your chest, “Just promise me that whatever happens, you won’t hurt yourself anymore? Not over me, not over you, or your brother, or school or anything, okay?”

He’s not smirking at you anymore, but he’s watching you carefully, lips slightly parted and shoulders dropping. It only seems right to let yourself uncurl, crawling to sit in his lap with legs wrapped loosely around his hips. You fit just right in the gap between his crossed legs, and his palms pressing flat against the small of your back sends a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t need to promise that because nothing is gonna happen to—“

“Dave! God fucking dammit, just promise me okay? Because you’re… you’re fucking amazing and you don’t even see it. So _promise me_ , you idiot.”

His lips press into a stubborn, thin line and his head tilts slightly downwards so that you know he’s not looking at you anymore. You cup his cheeks with your hands, and force his face back upwards with a small growl so that you can feel his skin grow heated under your fingers. As hard as he had always been to read before, he seemed wonderfully predictable to you now.

“Okay, fuck, I promise.”

“Mean it?”

“Of course, stupid. I promise not to hurt myself anymore, cross my heart.”

He swipes his finger across his chest, that slow cocky smile spreading on his lips which made you want to cry. It was so obvious that he was confident his plan would work, that the two of you would be fine if you could just get over this small bump in the road. Then it would be smooth driving all the way to god damn happy ever after like in your movies.

Stupid fucking Strider.

You lean in to kiss him, feel him melt against the slow way you moved your lips, his hot breath dancing across your tongue. You think you’ll miss the careful way he kisses you most of all.

Breaking the kiss in a set of soft presses against his lips, he tells you he loves you again and you have to bury your face in the crook of his neck so that he wouldn’t see your heart breaking. He’d seen you cry far too many times and you weren’t going to let it happen again.

“You’re ridiculous, Dave Strider.”

“Nah, I’m actually pretty cool, Karkat Vantas.”

“Ha! Yeah. Yeah you are.”

He laughs and you can feel it rumble low through his thin frame. You close your eyes, breathe him in, take a few moments to assign as much as you can to memory and hope that maybe one day you’ll get to experience what it was like to be held by him again. He rubs his hands up and down your back and rests his cheek in your hair until you nudge his head back up again.

“You need to get your lazy ass to school.”

“Yes, mother.”

He grins but you cut it off with another quick kiss, slotting that into your memory also before you move to climb off of him. As he grabs his bag and makes one more attempt to smooth down his hair in the mirror, you listen to him ramble on about how he would ask Rose straight away. He would come home from school and then you could both leave tonight, just until the police had searched the apartment tomorrow morning. And then you would be safe to stay with him.

You nod along with him, you accept his kisses, but you don’t say goodbye like he does to you when he reluctantly walks out the door, his backpack slung over one slouchy shoulder. 

Alone, you try not to think too hard when you get dressed and pack up your own bag slowly, silently. You feel numb and your hands shake when you glance around his room one last time, reach for the door handle. But you stop.

Your gaze had fallen on something half hidden under the mess of clothes and wires covering his floor, making you pause to bend down and pull it free. 

God, you hated this photo.

Your cheeks were too red and your nose was all scrunched up against the side of his face and he has the biggest shit eating grin on his lips over the fact that you actually agreed to kiss him in his stupid photo. It was fucking stupid and hardly flattering, but it broke straight through the numbness like one of his shitty swords had been shoved straight through your chest.

He was stubborn and ridiculous and he told you he loved far too much. But you hoped that maybe he had the patience to wait for you. And maybe you might never meet him again in the future and you would forget each other over time and you’ll look back bitterly at how foolish you were as a teenager. But despite all this, and despite the fact you never actually found the right time to tell him out loud… you loved him too.

Pocketing the photograph and shifting your bag straps on your shoulders, you take a shaky breath, tell yourself one last time that this was the right thing to do. It was the thing you _had_ to do. And then you open his bedroom door and quietly leave his apartment with no intention of returning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _And I will wait, I will wait for you_
> 
> So I'll be bold  
> As well as strong  
> And use my head alongside my heart  
> So tame my flesh  
> And fix my eyes  
> That tethered mind free from the lies { [x](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-NPNcRuaGQI) }


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ==>Be Dave Strider one last time.
> 
> Your name is Dave Strider, it has been 3 years, and you are twenty years old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is done. i am done. we are all done. thank you for reading, i don't think i would have had the motivation to finish this if it wasn't for all my readers being so absolutely amazing. this one goes out to all of you sexy sexy people. ollies outie into sun.
> 
> oh and fuck me sideways look more wonderful [ art ](http://amarantto.tumblr.com/post/42688697959/finally-some-fanart-for-the-most-wonderful-davekat) and [ art. ](http://2uperdoodler.tumblr.com/post/43265413657/here-my-pretties-take-some-albino-kk-fanart-from) (whispers p.s. amarantto, i will get round to writing for your lovely window au sometime soon i swear)

The first thing you notice when you find yourself face to face with Karkat Vantas for the first time in three years is that you were _face to face_. As in, holy fuck puberty, good job on the growth spurt there. And while you’re on that topic, good job on those cheekbones and jaw that hadn’t quite been so defined when you were both seventeen years old and he had disappeared from your bedroom without a word.

The next thing you notice about Karkat Vantas was that punching him in the face felt scarily familiar, even after all this time. Unfortunately, greeting someone with a surprise punch to the face was enough to get both of you kicked out the coffee shop where you’d only just been sat ten minutes ago minding your own business, trying to catch up on some of your college work.

But now your plans of a peaceful afternoon working on your photography were just as much down the drain as the rest of your Americano probably was at that present moment. Because you were stood on the street, straightening out your shirt where the owner had pulled you outside, and staring straight at the only guy you had ever let break your heart and the one guy you had thought you were completely over. And he was staring right back, nursing a sore jaw which had come in contact with your fist and sending you particularly spectacular scowl as a result.

“You… what… where… why are you here?”

He drops his hand from his jaw, red ringed eyes darting about the street before they settle on his sneakers instead, seeming to think things over before answering you.

“Great to see you too, fucker.”

“No shut up. Fucking… no. You left me.”

His expression twists and he meets your eye through your shades, making your chest feel tight and constricted, as though your lungs might burst if you took a deep enough breath. 

It had been three years. Three whole years of one night stands and terrible life choices all in a vain attempt to forget that one angry albino kid who had waltzed right out of your life just as fast as he’d fallen into it. And it was all for nothing? Moving towns for college to get away from the memories, random guys brought back to your apartment for mindless fucks every week, it had all been to forget about him.

And now he was erasing all your hard work, standing there with white hair just as untamed and pale skin just as flushed as when you remember it. From when he’d been yours. And you still want him, fuck, fuck, _fuck._

“I had to leave-“

“Bullshit.”

“No, Dave, shut the fuck up for a second okay?”

You press your lips tightly closed, sniffing slightly as you glance around at the people passing the two of you on the street, the curious onlookers watching through the coffee shop windows, probably hoping for another punch to be thrown. Someone further along the road starts to play an upbeat tune on his guitar, singing out to a depreciating crowd to earn a few dollars. You force your attention back on him. 

And god, he hurts to look at. Because he’s just as wonderful as he’d always been, despite being a little taller and leaner. He still had dark rings around his eyes from lack of sleep, his hair still curled upward where it hit the dark material of his hoodie, his fingers still fidgeted restlessly so that you had the urge to reach out and still them with your own.

He’d been yours once.

“I…” he begins but stops, seeming self conscious of the eyes watching both of you. But you make no move to take him someplace less public, you don’t think you could move now even if you tried.

“I wanted to just find you,” You catch him swallow and you breathe out slowly, dreading to think how pale you must look, “And, fuck, do you know how hard it is to track you down? Fucking hell, Strider, it took me like, 2 months or some shit… but yeah, anyways. I wanted to just… see you.”

“You wanted to see me.”

You sound too deadpan, but you figure it only matches the extreme lack of emotion your expression was currently giving away. Truthfully, you didn’t know how to feel. For all the times you’d imagined him coming back to you over the years, not once did you ever imagine it to be like this.

“Of course I wanted to fucking see you. And maybe you don’t want to see me. Maybe you want to shove me on the road so that the next bus that comes along will finish me off good and proper or whatever but… I wanted to see you.”

“But it’s been three years.”

“I know but…” Karkat’s hands flail out of want for words, a small growl rumbling past clenched teeth as you watch him scramble in his jeans pocket to pull out his wallet. His fingers scramble nervously to pull something free of the leather and when he holds it up, you find your stomach drop so far you might as well have been physically falling down a damn well.

His hand was shaking as he held up the crumpled Polaroid in your direction, and his voice was quiet in the loud hustle and bustle of the city street.

“But don’t you miss it?”

It’s only at this point where you realize how far away you were standing from him exactly, because it takes a few steps for you to be able to reach up and pluck the photograph from his fingers. And your hand brushes against his in the first contact you’d had in years. It’s a marvel at how he still manages to send a shiver down your spine with every little touch.

You stare at the photo, expression cracking just slightly at the smiling Dave receiving an awkward kiss from a blushing Karkat. God this was… he’d kept it?

“Of course I miss it. I missed you. For years I waited for you to come back.”

You push your shades further up your nose, quickly holding the photo back in his direction, as though it was the source for all your hurt, for everything that happened between the two of you.

“I couldn’t… I wanted to but there was school and family and I just… couldn’t.”

“No,” you quickly snap, brow furrowing as you press the photo up against his chest, angry that he wouldn’t take it back from you, “No, you didn’t _want_ to come back. You were too much of a pussy to admit that you didn’t love me back. So you ran away, like a scared little bitch.”

“Don’t you fucking dare say that, you insufferable swine.”

His tone is sharp, eyes narrowing under a pale, furrowed brow. You feel the firm grip of his fingers curling around your wrist, but he still won’t take the photo back, and it seems that your eyes couldn’t look anywhere but the faded image of him kissing you, or the very much alive image of him glaring you down.

He’s too much, you weren’t expecting this. 

“Why shouldn’t I say it? Can’t face the truth? Yeah well, I guess we were both stupid when we were seventeen… but guess what? I’ve moved on. I have a life in this city, I have a DJ job, I’m getting a photography degree, I’m getting this whole god damn life sorted out and I did it all _without you_. I don’t… I don’t need you.”

You see something twitch in his frown, and his eyes are too bright and shiny.

_Please don’t cry._

“And let me guess, you don’t love me anymore?”

His grip tightens on your wrist, scratchy voice scarily low and calm despite the fact you could practically see the tension rising off the two of you like a heatwave. Your lips part to answer, cheeks flaring up under his scrutiny as you scramble to form an answer.

You do still love him. And like always, you hate yourself for it. Why did it always have to be him?

“I don’t love you.”

You sound like a spoilt child, resisting their parent’s request with a stamp of your foot and a scowling pout. So stubborn, so pretentious, and so undeniably _wrong_. And he can tell you’re a filthy liar because there’s a slight smirk to the way he tilts his head, his thumb pressing against the inside of your wrist, searching out your pulse. Blood pumping fast, fast, fast for him.

“Oh, you don’t?”

“I don’t.”

“Shame. Because I still love you.”

And his hand jerks to the side, taking your wrist with it as the sudden movement has you stumbling forward, the distance left between you gone in an instant. He finds your lips and your fingers curl tight against the photo still in your hand, image distorting and crumpling under your grip.

But it doesn’t matter.

Because you have the real thing right here in front of you, sliding his other hand around your waist as he refuses to let up in his kiss until you give in. And you do. But it’s the sweetest kind of defeat in the way you melt against his lips, arm flying up to hook around the back of his neck as you press back with starving lips.

Your chest is exploding, your mouth can’t move fast enough, and once you let the photograph drop to the floor, your wrist breaks free of Karkat’s grip. You touch him in a deprived frenzy, clinging against his hoodie, tracing the curve of his neck, feeling the soft skin give way to a tangle of white hair. He was right here. 

When the kiss breaks, lips still heated and tinged pink under each other’s breath, you remember where the two of you actually were.

Stood in the middle of a busy city street with a whole coffee shop full of watching people, who’d seen you throwing punches only fifteen minutes earlier… And then you’d just kissed him like your whole life had depended on the flick of his tongue.

But it was okay, because you weren’t looking at them and neither was he, eyes only for each other before his arms were gripping around your chest, pulling you into a hug. He’s buried in your neck, heated cheek pressing against your skin. You breathe in his scent, try your hardest not to laugh at how ridiculous this all was. 

You have three whole years to catch up with him, and two broken hearts to fix, piece by piece. 

The frenzied kisses he was pressing against your throat were a start though, and he’s shaking slightly in your arms when you hold him close up against you.

“Fuck you. Don’t you fucking leave me again, I swear.”

His reply is muffled against your skin, quiet voice splitting your face into a grin that you couldn’t stop even if you’d tried. 

“I missed you too.”

Somewhere further along the street, the busker with the guitar reaches his chorus, spieling lyrics about sweethearts. And you start to rock Karkat slowly to the song until you are both snorting out laughs and stealing kisses in front of anyone who took the time to notice you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart_
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> [ {x}](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x8311YhEEbU)
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> 
> goodbye.


End file.
